


Strange Region

by Tyranno



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Jinora, Firehealing Zuko, Gen, Old Man Zuko, Time Travel, Zuko goes into grandfather mode
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:36:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23877790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyranno/pseuds/Tyranno
Summary: “Oh,” Zuko said. His voice came out very small.“What is it?” Jinora asked, slipping past the dragon’s elbow.“Ba Sing Se,” Zuko breathed. In all his years he never thought he’d see it again—not like it was then. He curled a wrinkled hand into the thickness of Druk’s fur. The dragon pressed his snout into Zuko’s neck.“It can’t be,” Jinora frowned. “I’ve been there before. It’s not that small, for one thing.”“It was,” Zuko said. “And I know why you don’t recognise it. It’s because it’s not your Ba Sing Se. It’s mine. The one from my youth.”🍂
Relationships: Jinora & Korra, Jinora & Zuko, Korra & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 216
Kudos: 1223





	1. Chapter 1

1.

Zuko hit something hard with the side of his head, so hard that white popped in front of his eyes and there was a sharp snap like cracking ice.

Gravity caught up with him and he slumped to the ground. Something very hard pressed into his ribcage from below. He picked himself off, a small rock falling from his hairline. He groaned lowly. The first thing he wondered was—what hit me? The second was—rock? But I’m in the south pole.

With a monumental effort, Zuko shoved himself upwards and rested on his haunches. Green spread out before him, deep green hills, wide green plateaus.

His third thought— _I am really too old for this_. Sixteen was young and vigorous enough to be attracting trouble like hornetbees to honey, but Zuko should have lived long enough to not tempt the spirits like this. He was over ninety. His bad luck was getting a little embarrassing.

Blood ran in a hot rivulet down his temple and he ran a hand over his wounded ear. The injury was glowing with heat and very tender.

“Zu—Lord Zuko!” A bright voice called, and a yellow-robed airbender girl bounced over the rocks to his left. Jinora had grown out her hair to a long, swinging sheet that glided around her shoulders.

“Jinora,” Zuko eased himself into standing. “We’re not in the South Pole anymore.”

“No, we’re not,” Jinora slid to a stop in front of him. “The power packs exploded while Korra was trying to drain them. Maybe the pent-up spiritual energy teleported us?”

Zuko frowned and glanced around, “Without making a new portal?”

Jinora grinned nervously.

There was a low grumble from above them, like rocks moving. A deep red snout poked over the outcropping of rock, white whiskers sprawling out into the wind and eyes like bright coins found the pair.

“Druk,” Zuko felt a knot of worry ease in his chest. “You’re alright?”

The dragon gave a low affirmative rumble. He shuffled his wings on his sides.

“The Avatar,” Zuko returned his attention to the young airbender, “did you see her?”

“…Yes,” Jinora bounced backwards slightly.

Zuko frowned, “Is she hurt?”

Jinora bit her lip and turned. With one wide leap, she cleared the fallen rocks and landed soundlessly on the other side, before she vanished behind the curve. Zuko’s climb over was markedly less quiet, and so ungainly that he felt Druk’s snout push at his back a few times to steady him. Eventually he cleared it and padded after Jinora.

Avatar Korra lay out on the rocks ahead of them, on the side of the mountain. Physically, she looked fine. There was no blood, and no broken bones. But she was utterly unmoving. Her head had fallen back onto the rocks limply, and her dark hair fanned out around her ears.

“Can you heal her?” Jinora asked.

Zuko grimaced, “My healing is not very good, and nowhere near even an average waterbender’s level. It’s probably best to focus on moving her somewhere where a professional can help.”

“But firebender healing is more spiritual, right?” Jinora bounced on the balls of her feet. “She might need that.”

“You think it’s a spiritual problem?” Zuko frowned down at her.

Jinora bit her lip and leaned down towards Korra. Very gently, she pulled back the Avatar’s eyelid to reveal scalding, shocking white.

Zuko had a very bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, like a swallowed stone. He raised an eyebrow. “I see.”

Jinora stepped back, “Usually, that only happens when she’s accessing the Avatar spirit. Like when she’s in the spirit world or communing directly with Raavaa. But when the explosion hit she immediately got knocked into this. Now she won’t wake up and I don’t think she’s in the spirit world.”

“Ah,” Zuko said. He tried very hard to sound like he understood that. Spiritual things had always been very nonsensical to him, but he understood that this was extremely dangerous. He also understood that this was out of his league as a spiritualist, let alone a spiritual bender. Extremely so.

“So, can you help her?” Jinora asked. Her voice quivered.

Zuko tied his long white hair back, so that it hung in a knotted tail around his shoulder blades. He rolled up his sleeves. Even in the short amount of time he’d been in the… Earth Kingdom, presumably, he’d already started to sweat under his thick red robes.

Firehealing was difficult, and he’d helped develop it solely to prove that it could be done. To prove to himself that firebending could be more than just a weapon. It wasn’t even supposed to be used. He breathed out slowly, letting calm fill him. Cold water flowing into an empty basin, as Aang always said. He closed his eyes.

The energy around him came into focus. It was like water, self-willed and taciturn. He felt it flow past, tugged by his inhale, pushed by Jinora’s exhale. He felt the pull of the wind, the shifting clouds that dragged it northward. The warmth he exuded. It felt oddly heavy, thick like syrup. His fingers splayed in the cold air, feeling it pour through his fingers.

Zuko felt the directional pulls of the world, and, like snatching a fish from the river, yanked one of them towards him. Fire, as white as snow and hemmed with pale red, bloomed in his hands.

Time sped up again and a wave of dizziness threatened to knock Zuko over too, but he shook his head sharply. Warmth rolled up his arms and he swam a hand through, moulding the fire forwards the fallen Avatar. He could feel her spirit, but Jinora’s was bright enough to almost eclipse it. Druk’s spiritual energy was almost painfully bright.

That wasn’t right. He frowned but didn’t open his eyes. The Avatar had always been a beacon to him. A burning flare. He used to be able to feel her presence from miles away—he’d used her energy to track her down before.

Now, it was like she was imprisoned between thick ice. Even as his energy brushed hers, sort out places to heal and glow, he could hardly feel her. If he hadn’t seen for himself before he closed his eyes, he would have assumed he was trying heal someone halfway down the mountain. He stretched his fire out, healed a notch in her ear, an old scab on her chin. But her spirit was too far away.

“No,” Zuko sighed and opened his eyes. His flames winked out. “I’m sorry, Jinora. I don’t think there’s anything I can do.”

Jinora looked pained. She nodded stiffly.

Above her head, Druk grunted slightly. He ducked his head towards the horizon.

“Come on, old friend,” Zuko looked up at the dragon, “give us some good news?”

Druk gave a groan and pulled back his lips. It was the draconic version of a wince.

Zuko straightened up and scrambled around the mountainside to see what he saw. The dragon shifted to let him pass. The warmth the animal threw off was stunning, like standing next to a hot stove. Rocks scattered as he came to a stop at the cliffside.

A city lay below them. Small, and ringed with three thick walls that looked tall even from this great distance.

“Oh,” Zuko said. His voice came out very small.

“What is it?” Jinora asked, slipping past the dragon’s elbow.

“Ba Sing Se,” Zuko breathed. In all his years he never thought he’d see it again—not like it was then. He curled a wrinkled hand into the thickness of Druk’s fur. The dragon pressed his snout into Zuko’s neck.

“It can’t be,” Jinora frowned. “I’ve been there before. It’s not that small, for one thing.”

“It was,” Zuko said. “And I know why you don’t recognise it. It’s because it’s not your Ba Sing Se. It’s mine. The one from my youth.”

Jinora stared at him. She looked so much like her grandfather with that expression, hovering somewhere between bewilderment and awe. She glanced back at the city and then returned her gaze to the old ex-Firelord. She chewed her cheek. It was a testament to her mental flexibility that she didn’t ask him if he was Sure, or if he was Feeling Alright. She only looked very, very worried.

“Right,” Jinora said, weakly. “That’s—… it’s not good.”

“No,” Zuko leaned backwards, resting his weight on the armoured front of the dragon, “It’s not good at all.”

*

Roles were sorted out fairly quickly after that.

Avatar Korra was left in the care of Druk, who would be too large and conspicuous in the city. In the mountains he could hunt, hide, and keep Korra safe. He was very reluctant to let Zuko leave, but yielded eventually.

Jinora and the former Firelord made their way down the mountain, after they’d both changed into the closest they could come to Earth Kingdom clothes that they could scavenge from the supplies on Druk’s saddle. This resulted in them wearing mostly dark clothing or Korra’s watertribe garb. Jinora wrapped a silver and green headband over her tattooed forehead and kept her sleeves pulled down over her hands.

Every instinct told Zuko to stay away from the city. He couldn’t have his bad luck poison it, not at a time as important as this. But he could hardly sit in the mountaintop and wait for salvation and/or Korra waking up. So he’d forced himself to change and stomp down alongside the young airbender.

“I’m Yen,” Zuko told her.

Jinora’s eyes snapped to him, “Yen?”

“I can’t go around calling myself Zuko,” Zuko said. “So from now on—you should call me Yen. In fact, you should try and think of me as Yen too and call me that even when you think we’re alone, so that you don’t trip yourself up.”

“Yen and not Lee?” Jinora asked. “That’s what you called yourself when you were hiding out in Ba Sing Se the last time.”

“Who told you that?” Zuko said, his pale grey eyebrows knitting together.

“My grandmother told me,” Jinora said.

They joined the end of a long queue of refugees. The crowd quickly swallowed them, but nobody paid the slightest bit of attention to their conversation. Murmur muffled them completely, even as others stood so close they were pushed together.

Zuko huffed, “Well, Lee is too obvious. Everyone goes for Lee. Yen’s got more character. But I’ll let you choose our surname.”

“Seto,” Jinora said, “and _our_ surname? So you’re like my grandfather, right?” The idea seemed to please her, and she smiled behind her hand.

“Why Seto?” Zuko asked. “And you’re not my granddaughter, you’ll be my second niece twice-removed or something.”

“Seto because that’s Korra’s surname.” Jinora said. “And she’s the only one in my family that’s got one, as far as I know. It’s a very Earth Kingdom thing, you know?”

“You aren’t related to Korra,” Zuko said, firmly.

They shifted forward in the line, pushed by the crowd like silverfish in a shoal. A young man shoved Zuko so hard he nearly toppled over.

“I kind of am,” Jinora said. “She’s a reincarnation of Aang, right? And he _is_ my grandfather. So it’s like—spiritual first cousins.”

“Not really.”

Jinora scrunched up her face at him, “If you think about it.”

“You’ve reached the help desk,” The harried looking cleric said, and Zuko realised with a start that they had reached the end of the long queue. The cleric peered at him, his beard still cut in firenation-style, his pale gold eyes. “How can I… help you today, sir?”

“Hi!” Jinora slipped in front of Zuko and took full attention. “I’d like to apply for asylum, please! For me and my grandfather here.”

*

After a few days of waiting in the dank, unpleasant camps outside of the wall, they were finally assigned rooms in a dark tenancy at the very outer ring slums. Before they entered the city, they were bullied into giving up every one of their possessions to be painstakingly searched. Jinora and Zuko watched the soldiers slice apart their old clothing, wearing only the scratchy deep green standard-issue immigrant clothing. Luckily, Jinora’s was still too large and covered her tattoos, and they’d let her keep her headband. Zuko was glad all he’d brought with him was his Earth Kingdom knife and some miscellaneous coinage.

By the time they arrived at their new lodging, it was already dark. The street smelled of manure and old, sagging wood. Theirs was right at the top of the old building, in an oddly shaped apartment that had clearly been multiple rooms at one point but had been sheered away into an asymmetrical triangle. They could hear their neighbours talking lowly in the other rooms, but too muffled to make out distinct words.

“Tomorrow, we’ll get work,” Zuko said, after he’d closed the door behind the two of them. “Tomorrow, we’ll begin to investigate the city, to find out why we’re here—if there’s a reason at all. And if there’s nothing that the spirits want doing, we’ll find something that can help us help Korra.”

“Like what?” Jinora tilted her head.

“I don’t know yet,” Zuko said, with all the confidence he could muster. “But we’ll find it. If we can make it to the middle ring, we’ll have access to libraries and universities which will have more than we could possible ever want to know about the spirit world. And somewhere in there, there’ll be something.”

Jinora seemed comforted. There was still a nervous energy to her. She made a move to sit.

“Don’t sit!” Zuko yelped.

Jinora froze.

“Look,” Zuko picked up the corner of the thin futon and flipped it over. The other side—just as greying and yellowed as the top side—was revealed.

“What?” Jinora asked.

Zuko crouched beside it. With a smooth, sweeping movement, he summoned a low flame which stretched over the pale material. Heat shimmered in the air. Then, gradually, dark bugs the size of strawberry seeds began to emerge from every crease in the material.

Jinora squealed so loudly the neighbour smacked the wall to get her to shut up. She took a few paces back, skin ashen. “What are those?!”

“Tickfleas,” Zuko said, “They drove me absolutely crazy the first time I lived somewhere like here. But they’re easy enough to deal with, with the right tools. I can keep a low heat the tempt them out, and—” he flared his flames and they glowed bright white for just a second. A swath of bugs dropped to the wood floor. “There you go. Dead as doornails, and I get every single one. It’s a talent.”

Zuko’s knees clicked when he straightened up, and he rubbed his spine. Heat still shimmering above his hands, he moved across every surface in the small apartment, tempting out and them flash-burning the black Tickfleas every time they emerged.

“Don’t you risk setting fire to the place, like that?” Jinora asked.

“Not really,” Zuko killed a cluster of bugs in the corner of the room, “To start a fire, you need heat and tinder, but you also need a spark. Most of the time, I’m only bending the heat. And when I flare the fire, it’s only for a second and I control it well.”

Jinora nodded. She sat down on the corner of the eradicated futon. It was pleasantly warm, like sun-baked stone.

Zuko took another ten minutes to clear the rest of the apartment. His manner was so thorough and methodical, a real terrible hatred must lie in his heart for those small biting bugs. He liked to see the little bodies crumble and die. For weeks in Ba Sing Se, Zuko had developed thick, itchy red lumps whenever he slept. Iroh had never been bitten, even once.

Finally, Zuko sat down opposite Jinora, and stretched out his old, tired body onto his own futon. He stared up at the misshapen ceiling.

“This sucks but,” Jinora paused. “I’m glad I’m here with you and not some other Fire Nation official.”

Zuko closed his eyes and hummed, “Me too, I suppose.”  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments! I really wasn't sure this fic would be popular :,)
> 
> Just a heads up, the timeline of this fic will be slightly wonky. I'll try to hit the beats of canon just to keep everything straight, but some events will take longer to happen, some will be over quickly--that kind of thing.  
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Morning came far too soon for Jinora.

She glared at the bright bands of sunlight that glowed between the cracks in the borded-up windows. Her body was still heavy, and her mind was mushy. It was only when she heard Zuko moving around that she decided she should also get up. Jinora rubbed a hand over her face and yawned.

“Good morning, Jinora,” Zuko said when he noticed her rolling upwards. The old man’s thick grey hair had been re-braided into the Earth Kingdom style, a long, thin braid which could loop a few times around his neck. He was dressed in dark green robes, the rough-hewn cotton a far cry from the red silks he’d worn only weeks earlier.

“Good morning Lor—Zu—Yen!” Jinora flushed. She offered an apologetic smile.

“Third time lucky,” Zuko observed mildly. Steam brushed his arms as he bent a little more heat into the steaming pot of tea in front of him.

“You bought a teapot?” Jinora exclaimed. She shuffled closer and breathed in the deep, sharp aroma of cheap black tea.

“I borrowed it,” Zuko said. He scratched his chin. His white goatee had been shaved down to a grizzled stubble.

Zuko gestured to the pile of clothes he’d laid out. Somehow, he had found enough material to sew together long, tight sleeves Jinora could pull over her arms to hide her tattoos and small wrappings to hide the top of her feet. Apart from a blue mark on the back of her neck that was only visible when her braid moved too much, she was completely hidden.

“It’s all the breakfast I could get, I’m afraid. If we don’t both get a job in three day’s time, we won’t be able to afford even this place’s rent.” He poured them both a cup of tea.

“Both of us?” Jinora frowned. “But you’re retired.”

“No refugee is retired,” Zuko said. He took a long sip of his tea. When he noticed her expression, he gave her a reassuring smile, “Don’t worry, Jinora. I’m as strong as a komodo rhino. And for two able-bodied, healthy people like us, jobs shouldn’t be too difficult to come by.”

*

It took until lunch for Jinora to find a job.

By then, her stomach was twisted into painful knots. But she had a job. She shouldered her deliveries with ease—it only took some subtle air-bending to keep the towering piles of grain or ceramic pots or thick academic textbooks. Each delivery was perfect, not a chip on any of the delicate jade sculptures she delivered to an art house, she didn’t lose a petal on the cherry bonsai tree she set in the magistrates’ office.

When she returned to the warehouse headquarters, she was dizzy with hunger and exhaustion. She pulled her rough cotton slacks higher and retied her belt. Her clothes were far too large for her, and she hated how they hung from her limbs, pulling taut uncomfortably at random moments.

“Hey, new girl!” Her boss called when she crossed into the main hall. He was a stout man with a thick gut. “Finally! If you’re this late again, you’ll lose your day’s pay.”

Jinora smiled weakly, “Sorry sir.”

“Hmm,” Her boss pulled a heavy pouch from his belt and counted out a small amount of bronze coins. He dropped these into Jinora’s open hands.

Jinora stared at the meagre pay, “Hey! You said it’d be eight coins a day. This is only four!”

The boss glowered down at her, “Excuse me? You were hired to do ten deliveries. You only completed six, _and_ you were late. You’re lucky I paid you at all.”

A surge of annoyance bit at Jinora, but she forced it back down. She didn’t smile, but she pocketed the pay and gave a short bow.

“Come in early tomorrow if you’re going to be slow again,” The boss said, and walked away.

Jinora stared reproachfully at his retreating back. It wasn’t very airbender-y of her, but she wished she could have given him a smack. It wasn’t fair. Her hunger had dulled to a low rumble. She kicked a loose rock, anger simmering in her stomach.

“Hey,” someone called from the doorway. The voice wavered.

Jinora glanced up. A long-limbed, willowy Earth Nation boy padded through the door. He had thick black hair cut into a bowl-cut which flopped over his ears, and looked at least a couple years younger than Jinora herself.

“Has the boss already left?” The boy asked.

“Yeah,” Jinora snapped.

The boy took a step back. His expression wobbled, and tears filled his jade-green eyes, “Oh. It’s just that—well, he said if I wasn’t back in time…”

“He wouldn’t pay you,” Jinora finished. Her heart sank and she felt the annoyance drain out of her.

“Right,” The boy wiped his eyes with the back of his wrist, “I went on an extra journey because a client asked me to. I thought that might… well. Do you know where he lives?”

“No,” Jinora said. “I just started here today.”

“Oh,” The boy said. “I thought you looked new. I’ve been here forever, but I’m bad with faces.” He ran his hands through his badly-cut hair and sighed, dropping down onto his haunches, “I don’t know what I’m gonna do. I need the money today.”

Jinora watched him for a second. Then, she retrieved her coins from her pack and held them out to him.

The boy stared down at her hand, and then up at her, “Um, are you sure? I can pay you back, but you don’t even know who I am.”

“It’s alright,” Jinora smiled. “Besides, I’ll give them to you if you teach me the best way to get around Ba Sing Se. I can’t keep being late with my deliveries, and I’m a fast runner. But there must be a better way than what the maps say.”

“Sure,” The boy jumped to his feet, “Sure—yes, of course!”

Jinora dropped the coins into his hands.

“Thank you so much,” The boy beamed at her, “I’ll tell you everything I know. You don’t know how much this means to me, rent’s due today and my mother’s out of work with fever. This just saved my life.”

Jinora beamed at him, “I’m Jinora.”

“Shufen,” The boy jabbed a thumb at his chest, “It’s spelt with the characters for ‘good, pure’ and then ‘fragrant, aromatic’.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Jinora folded her arms.

“You too,” Shufen beamed. “Ah, you’re like a spirit coming out of the shadows in my time of need. Did you just slip from the spirit world to visit me here?”

Jinora laughed, “Something like that.”

Shufen dropped his pack on the ground and rooted through it until he pulled out a wicker box. He pushed it into her hands.

Jinora cracked the seal and peered into the box, “Dried persimmons?”

“I get them free from the market because my uncle sells them,” Shufen said. “They were supposed to be for my mother, but she’ll appreciate the pay more.”

“Thank you,” Jinora’s stomach twisted and she closed the lid. Already, she felt much lighter.

“No problem. These days all I eat is persimmons—You’re doing me a favour taking them from me,” Shufen offered her a warm smile as he darted away. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

*

“No pay today?” Zuko asked when he open the lid on the box of dried persimmons.

Jinora shifted nervously, “Well—I did get paid. But I gave the money away.”

Zuko tilted his head. He pulled out a persimmon and chewed it thoughtfully. The burst of sweet, rich fruit was enough to turn his stomach after a few days of barely eating, so the next persimmon he chopped up into small, thumb-nail sized parts and ate each one carefully and slowly.

“I got a job in the fields,” Zuko said. “Just collecting the grain. It’s not fun, but the pay is enough to secure us here. It’s weekly pay and not daily, so I’ll be paid at the end of the week.”

Jinora nodded. She ate another persimmon. Already the rich tang of the fruit was starting to bore her. She wished she could eat something plainer, like the savoury soup her father always cooked when they would spend days meditating. She quickly shut that memory down; thinking of her family would just make her sad.

“You aren’t mad?” Jinora asked.

“Mad?”

“About my pay,” Jinora said. “You didn’t even ask who I gave it to.”

“It’s your money,” Zuko said. He picked up another persimmon. “Besides, a box of fruits of this quality could have easily run you three or four coins anyway.”

Jinora paused. She had been expecting to defend herself, not to be trusted so quickly. Where was the stern, formidable Firelord she’d always heard tales about? It was difficult to imagine Zuko, who lay like a sleepy old housecat eating dried persimmons and drinking tea in a dilapidated apartment, was the same Zuko who had tore apart and restructured the Fire Nation like a bolt from heaven.

“I’m going to earn more,” Jinora said. “Maybe even get a new, better job. I promise I won’t give away my money again, and then we can eat a proper meal, not tea and persimmons.”

“I believe you,” Zuko said. “Although the persimmons and the tea are really quite good.”

*

Shufen waved her over next morning. He was already laid up with the morning deliveries, strapped to his sides like the hanging packs on a skybison. The heavy packs slapped together when he moved. He pointed to another set of deliveries that were stacked next to him.

“The persimmons were really nice,” Jinora said. She pointed to the deliveries next to him. “Are these mine?”

“Yes,” Shufen said. “It’s better to choose the smaller packs, especially things which aren’t too fragile or too heavy. Besides, these are in the same sorts of areas I’m going.”

Jinora strapped them to her sides with Shufen’s help. When they were finished, she wobbled from step to step. Before, she had left the deliveries at the warehouse and returned for them, but now she saw that everyone was strapped up in thick packages.

Shufen led her through the city. The map made it look complicated already, but the actual city was impossibly difficult to discern. Alleyways which looked straight on the map actually looped over one another, crossed back like braided ropes, and others turned right when the map said they should turn left. Some paths Shufen bounded down weren’t included on the map, and other streets had been closed or built over since the map’s printing.

Jinora wished she could just open up her staff and fly over the city. She could just drop the packages from a height and be done with it. But her staff was outside the city with the sleeping Avatar, and anyway, she didn’t want to draw attention to herself.

Even without flying, they were both done by noon.

“It’s time for lunch,” Shufen said. He passed through the market and pretended to paw over the fruits, until he reached a stall where the owner rolled his eyes at Shufen’s exaggerated interest. Shufen turned back to Jinora, “fancy dried persimmons?”

“Sounds great,” Jinora said.

The owner passed Shufen a flat box of dried persimmons, “Who’s this, Shufen? Your girlfriend?”

“Chungmao’s name is spelt with the characters for ‘curious’ and ‘auspicious’,” Shufen told Jinora, pointedly ignoring his uncle, “that’s why he’s so nosey.”

Chungmao rolled his eyes, “Your generation is so disrespectful.”

Shufen gave him a smile and led Jinora away from the market. He visibly relaxed when they were out of the chaos and noise of the bustling shoppers. He cracked open the box of dried persimmons and offered them to her.

Jinora reluctantly picked one of the dried fruits from the bottom of the basket, “This was my dinner last night, and my breakfast this morning.”

“Welcome to my world,” Shufen ate another persimmon, “You’re going to be more persimmon than girl by the end of the week.”

“At this rate, I’ll be a persimmon tree in my next life,” Jinora tore into the rich fruit and the slow, sugary syrup filled her mouth.

Shufen leaned against the wall in the shade of a off-market alley, “There are worse things.”

Jinora watched birds flock over the blue sky above them. She stretched, “We were done quickly today.”

“That’s the trick to it. If you know what you’re doing, you can be done quick. Some of the older boys have second jobs,” Shufen said. He considered the opposite wall for a moment, before he brightened. “By the way, you never told me which characters make up your name.”

“The first one’s for opportunity, the second one means leaf,” Jinora said, “And the a’s just because I’m a girl.”

“Hmm,” Shufen frowned, “Leaf?”

“It’s…” Jinora paused between persimmons. She swallowed. “I guess it basically means adaptable. Leaf in the wind.”

Shufen nodded, “It’s a good name. What phase of the moon where you born under?”

Jinora blinked, “No idea.”

“Really?”

“No,” Jinora frowned.

Shufen sighed, “Well, never mind. Adaptable opportunity is a pretty lucky name no matter what happens. Adaptability is worth more than gold these days.”

“What’s this all for?” Jinora finished a persimmon and decided another fruit would probably kill her. She closed the persimmon tray.

“Well, there’s a kid’s game the nobles play where you can know someone’s future,” Shufen said, “you need their name and what phase of the moon they’re under. I’m not sure if people actually still believe it, but I’ve known mothers who have a different name planned for each day of the month they could go into labour for. To simplify it, if you’re born on a waning moon, your name will come true, if it’s waxing you risk the opposite.”

“Oh,” Jinora said, “How do you know that?”

“Well…” Shufen rubbed his chin. He gave her a grin, “Believe it or not, I was actually a nobleman once.”

Jinora looked him up and down. His shoes were scruffy and dark, his clothes didn’t fit him, mud clung to the corners of his cuffs.

“Yeah. But my father was the governor of a territory about six years ago, which we lost to the Fire Nation army. They also torched our papers and all of our clothing except what we were wearing at the time,” Shufen said. “We were turned out of the place.”

“I’m sorry,” Jinora said.

“Don’t be,” Shufen said, “My family all survived, and I have a paying job now. Plus, I’m sure your story’s kind of similar.”

Jinora tilted her head, not sure whether to agree or disagree. A cart piled high with thick sacks of grain squeaked past their alleyway, pushed by an old woman humming a folk song. Kids darted like scattered chickens between the legs of market women.

“Still, it’s kind of funny,” Shufen said, “We had no passports, so even though we’d been nobles since the founding of the country, we aren’t nobles in Ba Sing Se. So, really, it’s not what you are, it’s who people believe you to be that matters.”

*

Jinora returned to an empty home. It took her a moment to remember which fold of her cuffs she’d sewn the key into and pulled it out. The door lock was stiff and difficult to unlock. Eventually, she wrestled it open and the door swung open, revealing a dark apartment.

She set the remainder of the box of persimmons on top of the other one. Despite how small the apartment was, it still managed to feel cavernously empty. She slipped her shoes off and stretched, wrinkling her nose at the gritty dust under her feet.

With a shake, she loosened her muscles, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Jinora dipped backwards, elegantly, like a dipping swan, and rolled into her first airbending kata.

*

The apartment door rattled with a knock.

Jinora dropped into a ready stance, hands still extended. She had been airbending in the small apartment for the better part of two hours, and dust hung in the air so thickly that it swirled in her breath. She wiped her sweaty face.

“Coming in,” Zuko murmured, and pushed the door open. In his arms, he carried a thick, wrapped square bundle. He smiled at her.

“Good evening,” Jinora gave a short bow.

“So formal tonight,” Zuko pushed the door shut again with his shoulder. His wise old eyes glinted with amusement. “You are turning into quite the dutiful granddaughter.”

Jinora bounced over, “What did you bring?”

“Dinner,” Zuko raised a white eyebrow. “Unless you brought something more appetising?”

Jinora glanced back at the boxes of dried persimmons. Zuko’s lips formed a tight line and he set the wrapped boxed on the floor. Gently, he unwrapped the thick blankets, releasing a cloud of warm air. Jinora knelt in front of the boxes.

“I know you’re missing your family,” Zuko said, setting the last blanket to one side. The bamboo caskets were pleasantly warm to the touch.

A lump formed in Jinora’s throat, “It’s not too bad.”

“It’s alright,” Zuko said. He lifted the top of the box off, steam rolling over his hands. Dozens of white, slightly glistening dumpling balls were laid out in neat rows on sheets of white paper. They smelled of salt and spice and looked soft and moist.

Jinora gasped, “These are denzo balls?”

“Not quite,” Zuko said. “I couldn’t get any pickles, so they’re fermented lettuce.”

Jinora picked up chopsticks from the side of the box and speared one. It was almost too hot to eat, but exactly the right level of moisture and spice. It even had the right aftertaste—a slight sourness, like drinking over-brewed oolong. The taste hit her with an almost painful twist of nostalgia.

“Aang taught me the recipe when we were on a diplomatic mission together,” Zuko said. “I presume Tenzin also made them for you? Is it close?”

“Yes,” Jinora said, and it came out slightly choked. She put a hand over her mouth.

Zuko warmed up a pot of water between his hands. It heated almost frighteningly quickly, going from stone-cold to fast-boiling between minutes. He dropped a healthy amount of chopped tea into the filter, and Jinora caught a whiff of chilli.

“I can’t say I’ve ever been thrown back in time some sixty or seventy years before,” Zuko admitted, stirring the tea. “But I can say I’ve sometimes been so far from my loved ones that thoughts of them were almost painful. Sometimes, I would travel to the North Pole and miss my daughter so much, I could hardly concentrate enough to firebend, let alone make diplomatic speeches. So I would brew up some spiced tea, the kind that I always made for her when she was sick or upset, and I drank it in my room. I even brought it with me to boring council meetings.”

Jinora watched steam spiral from the teapot, “That spice tea?”

Zuko smiled, “Yes.” He poured out an amount into two small, chipped cups. “I think it’s good to bring them close to you, in any way that you can. Your heart might hurt, but that’s not something that you should be embarrassed by.”

Jinora was surprised by a sudden surge of tears. She rubbed her eyes furiously. Zuko, very diplomatically, pretended not to notice.

“I forgot to put an egg wash on them,” Zuko said. “I was using the farm’s kitchen, so I didn’t have access to a proper steamer, either, so I just superheated some water.”

“It’s alright about the egg wash,” Jinora put another dumpling in her mouth, whole. When she had wolfed it down, she continued, “My dad doesn’t like it when the dumplings are too crispy. And the egg wash doesn’t always cook enough in five minutes.”

“Ah,” Zuko said. He cracked his chopsticks apart and picked up one of the dumplings.  



	3. Chapter 3

“Ah,” Shufen licked his lips and ran his fingers over the sticky paper at the bottom of the bamboo box, trying to feel for any sticky white casing he had left behind, “Those dumplings were really good!”

“Thought you might enjoy a break from dried persimmons,” Jinora rested her chin on her knees.

The pair of them rested in the shade of an alleyway. They had to be careful and keep an eye out for officers who would kick them around for loitering. Heat shimmered in the air. It was unseasonably hot, and the market was filled with dish-shaped brown hats and women scowling and squinting in the sun.

“I very much did,” Shufen closed the bamboo box and rubbed his belly.

“Shufen…” Jinora tilted her head, “Is there any way to get into a university library? Not as a delivery, but you know, one where I can actually look at the scrolls?”

“Sure,” Shufen said, “There’s a really easy way. Die, and then be reborn as a university student.”

Jinora gave him a flat look, “I’m being serious.”

“Don’t take it off the table so quickly,” Shufen said. “It’s really the easiest option.”

“Well, it’s not going to work for me,” Jinora said.

“Why do you want to go there anyway? I’m telling you; the boys aren’t as good looking as everyone says. Smarts aren’t everything and you can’t guarantee they’re even rich these days.”

“I’m not going to pick up university students,” Jinora said. She paused and wondered how best to pose her question.

Shufen looked back at her, only mildly interested, his pale green eyes almost the exact colour of the jade wall hangings behind him. He was very unlikely to tell anyone at all. He scratched his ankle absently.

“I have a… spiritual problem,” Jinora admitted. “I think the library would be a good place to start looking to solve it.”

Shufen narrowed his eyes, “New moon.”

“What?”

“I bet you were born under a new moon,” Shufen said, eyes closed in deep contemplation. “I asked my mother the other day. ‘Adaptable opportunity’ under a new moon is a classic sign of being spiritually gifted, and your spirit troubles probably caused by that.”

Jinora looked completely lost. Then, she nodded slowly, “Actually, I am kind of spiritually gifted.”

“Right?” Shufen said. “I’ll look up the rest of your futures when I get home. I don’t have any of my books, for obvious reasons, but my mother liked to plot destinies for her friends.”

“Okay, but,” Jinora straightened up, “any clues about the university situation?”

“Oh, you weren’t kidding?” Shufen frowned. “No, there’s no way. Even if you’re bringing a delivery, they’re never going to let third-ring slum trash like us into the waiting rooms, let alone let you get your dirty hands on priceless ancient scrolls. Sorry, but if you want spiritual advice, you’re not going to get much better than my uninformed opinions.”

Jinora’s heart sank. She wound her braid around her hands uncomfortably.

“You really must be fresh off the boat if you thought that was possible,” Shufen sighed. “What’s next, you want to go into the king’s palace?”

Jinora raised her eyebrows, “Well, if that’s not too much bother...”

“I’ll let you know,” Shufen winked and passed the bamboo box back to her, “Say, your grandfather’s a great cook, has he worked in a kitchen before?”

Jinora was absolutely sure he hadn’t, but she nodded anyway, tucking the box under her arm.

“I’ve got a cousin who works in a restaurant in the middle ring,” Shufen said. “He’s looking for a line chef. Is that amenable?”

“Yes, he’d love that,” Jinora said.

“I’ll let you know what he says,” Shufen lifted his pack back onto his shoulders, tying the straps down tightly. He only had two deliveries left and they hung awkwardly in the mostly empty pack.

Jinora pulled her own burdens from where she’d rested them on the dusty stone, “You seem to know everybody.”

“That’s the benefit of being a LúTóng. Nobles have lots of family,” Shufen sighed. “I’ve got some relation in every trash can from here to Omashu.”

“Must be nice,” Jinora said. “I don’t have any family anywhere right now. Except maybe my grandfather.”

Shufen shot her a look, and then his hard eyes softened, “My relations all talk so well of you, even though they’ve never met you. You’re like an honorary LúTóng. Jinora LúTóng.”

“Thank you,” Jinora said. “If you ever need anything from my trashcan, let me know.”

Shufen grinned, padding back into the street, “You’ve got it, cousin. Just don’t use the name at the borders—using a noble’s name without identification gets you arrested, apparently.” He gave a mocking salute.

Jinora returned the salute. When she was alone in the alley, she stretched. Sun beat down on her already sweaty shoulders and she scratched at her thick arm-coverings. It hadn’t really occurred her, when she had been getting the tattoos, that they would stop her from being able to disguise herself. Before now, she had had no reason to hide.

*

Jinora returned home with a broad basket of fruits and another basket of vegetables she would ask Zuko to grill. On the stairs, she ran into a cluster of the lower-level tenants, who were smoking opium, lying in the narrow gap between apartments. She was so startled that she jumped cleanly over them, impossibly high, almost cracking her head on the low ceiling. When she landed, she glanced back at them and was relieved to see neither of them seemed to notice. Still, she took the rest of the stairs at a decidedly normal, non-airbending speed.

The door was unlocked so she just pushed it open. The warm smell of cooking soup hit her when she entered. The old, former firelord stirred a pan over a small, enclosed flame. He gave her a wave.

“Oh, I brought veggies too,” Jinora set the two baskets side by side next to the door. “And some fruit.”

Half a dozen baskets of fresh produce and some sacks of grain occupied most of the space in the small apartment. Jinora could already see that that night, they would have to carefully arrange the baskets in order to be sure none of them would fall on them. Zuko gave a guilty smile.

“It’s a lot,” Jinora said, finally.

“I think we let our residual hunger do the thinking on this trip,” Zuko said. “The good news is we’ll still have enough for rent. But we’re alright on food, just for the moment.”

Jinora knelt opposite to him and shuffled back from the heat of the cooking flame. Sweat stuck her clothes to her body, and she pulled her long sleeves off and kicked off her shoes. “I think it’ll keep, anyway.”

Zuko nodded. He sliced some tomatoes very carefully and slowly and lifted the chopping board up. The board shivered slightly, and his hands shook as he scraped the tomato slices onto the grill.

“What’s wrong?” Jinora asked. She watched him set the board back on the floor next to him.

“My arm…” Zuko sighed and rolled up his right sleeve. A deep purple bruise covered most of his arm, the skin so thin it was almost translucent. He summoned a handful of warm fire in his left hand and spread it like cream across the arm. The bruise receded, but only barely.

“What happened?” Jinora lurched forward. “Who did that?”

“Nobody,” Zuko smiled, amused by her ferocity. “I lost track of the scythe when I was cutting grain and smacked myself with the weighted end. I’m lucky it’s not a gash, and the boss was kind enough to give me a little surplus pay even though it was my own fault.”

Jinora sat back on her feet. The vegetables popped and sizzled between them, and Zuko pushed them around with a wooden spatula.

“It’s alright, Jinora,” Zuko said, soothingly. “I’m old now. I get these kinds of injuries all the time—they’re not as bad as they look. And unlike most men as old as me, I can heal them a lot faster.”

Jinora’s heart sank. She looked at Zuko with new eyes. Before, she had always seen the ex-firelord as a towering figure of myth, the man who had done so much. Several historians she’d read had called him ‘the final weight on the scales, who could well have decided the entire outcome of the war’. They hadn’t been wrong, in her opinion. Zuko’s life had stitched together the world. Even when she knew him on a slightly more personal level, she hadn’t been able to pull back the curtains of grandeur and legend.

Zuko was ninety-three. He was still strong, and still a powerful bender, but his back was bowed with age, and his face was deeply lined. His hands shook slightly as he flipped over the pepper slices on the grill. Sozin, Zuko’s great-grandfather had been one-hundred and two at death. Azulon, Ozai’s father, had slipped away in his sleep at ninety-five. Ozai had died at sixty-five.

Jinora was struck by a sudden urge—to do _something_. But she didn’t know what. She clenched her hands in the rough fabric of her robes.

Zuko noticed her agitation. He picked off the grilled vegetables and lay them onto plates. “What’s wrong?”

Jinora accepted a plate and stared down at it. The pepper slices were sprinkled with sage and garlic and smelled delectable. “My friend at the delivery services said he’s looking for a line cook. I volunteered you.”

“That sounds good,” Zuko said. “When I heal, maybe. But how difficult is it? I’m not a very fast cook. I don’t want to leave my current job and end up getting fired at the next one.”

“You won’t get fired,” Jinora said, sharply.

Zuko raised an eyebrow, “I might. Not everyone finds me as charming as you do.”

Jinora pushed a few very hot peppers into her mouth and chewed quickly, to avoid saying anything else. The burst of spices on her tongue was lovely. She swallowed thickly and drank some of the quickly cooling tea Zuko had pushed towards her.

“You shouldn’t be working,” Jinora said, finally. She stared down at her empty cup, the dark pieces of tea clinging to the sides of the china.

Zuko put out the grill fire with a decisive flick of his wrist, like cracking an egg. The fire vanished like a cloth whipped away. “I did retire for a reason. But sometimes life knocks on your door again. And besides, we need two wages to afford this place.”

“There must be a better job,” Jinora insisted. “Somewhere that’s not too busy and not too dangerous.”

“Not in the outer ring,” Zuko shook his head. “There aren’t many routes out of the slums into more refined work. We’re the cogs that keeps the wheel turning.”

Jinora set the cup of tea down and sighed.

Zuko pulled out the tie at the end of his long grey braid and stuck his fingers through the loops of hair. He shook his hair to loosen it further. His old hair had a strange texture, stiff in some places but light and wispy in others. He retied it higher up on his head.

“I can get a new job,” Jinora said, decisively, “I can get something that means you won’t have to work.”

“Along with working out why we’re here in the first place?” Zuko asked. He finished brushing his hair and flipped it tiredly over his shoulder.

“This is more important,” Jinora insisted.

“Who knows what’s more important?” Zuko undid the tassels on his rough work clothes and pushed them from his shoulders. “What if Republic City is missing its Avatar while she sits on the mountaintop here? Any number of things could happen without her.”

“Republic city managed without her for a year while she was with Asami,” Jinora argued.

Zuko paused. He blinked at her and then frowned, “What is this about, Jinora?”

Jinora opened her mouth and closed it. Finally, she said, “I don’t want you to get hurt again.”

Zuko’s eyes softened. He offered her a tired smile and reached over, holding her hand between his warm, wrinkled hands, “You are doing everything you can, Jinora. And I’m not made of glass. I promise you I’ll be able to do my part, too.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Jinora gripped his hand, “What if you get really hurt here? You might not be able to come back to our time. Your granddaughter’s having a baby—what if you never get to see them?”

Zuko shifted backwards, releasing Jinora’s hand. He raised an eyebrow, “You are really getting ahead of yourself here. Why don’t we all worry about getting home, and leave the rest of our worries to a future self?”

Jinora frowned and considered that for a while, like swallowing a bitter drink. Finally, she nodded, “Alright.”

“Good,” Zuko pulled his nightclothes over his shoulders, “And anyway, when I left, Izumi was convincing Mayako to name the baby Azula, if it’s a girl.”

Jinora stared at him, wide-eyed, “Azula? So she would be Azula II, if she got crowned?”

“I know,” Zuko said, soberly. “So you can see why I’m not overeager to get back home.”

Jinora laughed.

*

The next morning, Zuko dressed quietly and left before Jinora was awake. The day was dawning, but the sun had not yet breached the high Ba Sing Se walls and the city was still dark. The curfew Zuko remembered had not yet been enacted and the streets weren’t as empty as he expected. Night salesmen were packing their stalls up slowly, the last of their food put into bamboo casks to be resold in the morning rush. The night workers they serviced were scarce and loped through the alleys like stray dogs.

Cats walked the rooftops languidly, watching him with yellow eyes. Birds slept in the blocked gutters of the slum houses. There was a muscle in the wind which rocked the rickety roofs of the houses around him, the battered shingles chimed together.

As Zuko passed into the farmer’s district, the thick smell of animals woke him up completely. It was still too early for the full force of work to begin, but plumes of smoke rose hundreds of feet in the air from the large pottery warehouses.

Outside a closed meat shop, a young boy with brown knees like the knots in a branch sat playing dice. Zuko paused next to the table and waited to be noticed.

“Oh, grandfather,” The boy greeted finally when the clatter of dice had stilled. “We’re not open.”

Zuko peered down at him from under the shade of his hat, “I’m looking for your great-uncle. I feel like playing pai-sho.”

“He’s asleep,” the boy said, scooping the dice together.

“Fetch him,” Zuko leaned on the table, “I promise he won’t mind.” Zuko dropped a copper coin onto the table, disrupting the dice.

With reluctance, the boy gathered the coin with the dice and darted into the dark shop. Zuko sat down at the table and sighed. He watched a fisherman carry empty nets out towards the great gates. He wondered if he could learn to fish—he had learned to spear them in rivers and nets couldn’t be more difficult than that. It would be a good way to get out of the walls without arousing suspicion.

“Ah, cousin,” An old man Zuko didn’t recognise ambled out of the back of the shop. He was built like a classic earthbender, broad shoulders and a sour, intimidating expression. His hair was very pale and shorn close to his skull.

Zuko bowed his head, “I hope it’s not too much to have a game with you.”

The old man set the pai-sho board onto the worn table, “Not much else to do, this early in the morning.”

Zuko helped him separate the pieces into the two sets. He was aware that the old man watched him under the brim of his hat, likely trying to place him. Zuko doubted he would succeed. Zuko caught his eye, “Do you want the opening move?”

“No,” The old man rubbed his grizzled chin. “The guest gets that honour.”

Zuko picked up the white lotus tile and very deliberately set it onto the board. The old man’s eyes were hard and unreadable, and he set the next same tile down opposite him. The two of them moved in tandem, hardly needing to glance at the opponent’s moves as they set tile after tile.

When they were finished, the board looked like a blooming flower, the white lotus tile at its centre. Zuko watched it impassively and glanced up at his opponent.

The old man glanced over the board and raised an eyebrow. A smile broke through his stern countenance and he extended a hand. Zuko gripped his hand and shook it once. The old man held his hands for a long moment, the thin bones of his hand hard under the thin skin. “My name is Guangyou.”

“Yen Seto,” Zuko replied.

The old man released his hand, “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Yen. The white lotus opens to all who listen.”

*

Jinora waited in the cool shade, sitting so her sore ankles were raised on the box in front of her. She was sitting in something slightly damp which she was ignoring and not thinking about. For all her natural agility, the constant jumping and running about was taking a toll on her legs. Of course, if she could airbend… She flipped through the small spirit talismans Shufen had given her, written in cheap ink on the backs of newspapers. They wouldn’t do much for her spiritual problem, but it was nice of her to give.

Bored of waiting, she jumped to her feet and tied her pack tighter around her chest. Shufen was a good delivery boy, but if something distracted him, he could spend an hour with a client talking about the minutiae of thread sewing in sleeve garments and end up having to dash around to make up the time. She stretched and stepped out of the gloom of the alley.

“—this is ridiculous,” The old customer was saying to Shufen, “The tea is really too dried. If you over-dry it, it loses quality. I know it’s not your fault, but you can’t be expecting me to pay full price for this.”

“Tea is supposed to be dry,” Shufen protested, bewildered.

“It’s supposed to be dried very carefully, to avoid losing the flavour,” The old customer was bald on the top of his head but had a magnificent beard and swinging grey braid, “and look at the way it breaks up when you shake it.” He shook the open bag. Jinora approached, hands behind her back.

“And these pieces are far too small—it will escape the filter,” The old man said, putting his finger into the loose-leaf tea. He showed Shufen his fingers, coated thick in grey-green dust.

Shufen looked hopeless, “Oh, I—” “That’s normal,” Jinora interrupted, stepping between them.

“It might be normal for you,” The old man said, “But for me to pay full price—”

“Let me show you,” Jinora retied the top of the bag and lifted it into her arms. It was very heavy, but she tossed it a foot in the air and caught it like it weighed nothing. She tossed it again, letting it spin in the air, and caught it above her head, tossing it up one last time and setting it carefully down again.

Both the old man and Shufen looked at her, bewildered by such a show of strength from a scrawny street girl. Jinora ignored them and re-opened the bag. “See? When it’s carried, the heavier parts settle, but when you shake it again, the dust slips past the big pieces and goes back to the bottom. So, unless you really want a tea bag with absolutely no dust, is there still a problem with it?”

The old man peered into the bag.

“Furthermore, you can’t get a refund after you stuck your hand into it,” Jinora said, sharply. “You’ve contaminated the product.”

“I see,” The old man said.

“That will be six gold pieces,” Shufen said. He stood behind Jinora and grinned.

The old man raised an eyebrow and gave him six gold pieces, “I apologise for the trouble.”

Shufen carefully counted the coins and tucked them into his pouch, “That’s perfectly alright.”

Jinora turned to leave, but the old man waved her down, “Young lady! If it’s not too much trouble, could you help me carry this big bag up to my shop?” He touched his lower back, “My back—it’s not what it used to be. I’ll give you a gold coin for it.”

Jinora paused, and glanced at Shufen, “I have other deliveries to do.”

“I’ll do them,” Shufen said, and she passed him her pack. Jinora lifted the sack by the corners and tossed it up, catching it around the middle. The old man smiled and led her down the street. Shufen bounded down the alley.

Street cats darted across their path, chasing a mangy tom with a fried lizard in its mouth. The pack was followed by a shop keeper with a broom. Jinora weaved out of the way, putting a hand out to stop the old man walking into the kerfuffle. The shop keeper eventually managed to yank the chewed remains of the fried lizard from the tom’s mouth, but not before he had swallowed most of it. The cats dispersed and the shop keeper left the street, fuming.

“Thank you,” The old man said, “Luckily, I don’t serve anything cats would be interested in. I’m not sure I would have the energy to run after them like that.”

Jinora shifted the heavy bag onto her hip and carried it like a small child, even though it weighed six times that, “It wasn’t right, trying to cheat Shufen like that.”

“Excuse me?” The old man peered up at her.

“It comes out of his wages if he doesn’t collect the full charge,” Jinora said.

“I confess I don’t know as much about tea as you do,” The old man said. “I’m opening a tea house, but I have much more to learn.”

“I don’t believe you,” Jinora narrowed her eyes. “Even a novice knows the heavy parts of the tea settle—that’s just plain physics. And you lied about the over dry tea.”

“But it’s true that when you leave tea to dry too long—”

“When you leave it two months too long, yeah,” Jinora said. “But that’s not going to happen at an industrial tea plantation. You just said it because you guessed Shufen wouldn’t know enough about it to dispute it.”

The old man shifted away slightly as he walked, slightly sheepish. He had a kind face, round and heavily lined, with an angle to his eyes that reminded her of Zuko. His hair was very pale, and his wrinkles told of a lifetime of expression.

“I apologise,” The old man said. “I’ve been trying to make a fresh start—but it’s easy to fall into old habits. I shouldn’t have tried to cheat your friend.”

Jinora blinked, a little bewildered. She hadn’t expected an apology. She shifted the weight of the tea sack and smiled, “That’s alright.”

The old man lead her the rest of the way through the middle ring and into the upper ring. There, the shops were cleaner, and the streets were empty of the crush of unwashed people Jinora had grown used to. The clothes were finer too, silks instead of cotton, and gold dangled from the ears and hair and fingers of the women which walked in small clusters. In her dirty, slightly smelly old clothes, Jinora felt oddly exposed. She passed the tea sack to the other hip.

“How would you feel about taking on a job as my middleman supplier?” The old man suggested, voice warm and bright.

Jinora stared at him, “Me? But I just chewed you out. Why would you want to hire me?”

“Ah, you mean when you refused to fall for my ploys and didn’t allow a client to get away with stealing from you or your associates?” The old man rubbed his chin. “I need someone who’s honest and isn’t going to be cowed by a mean salesman.”

Jinora didn’t know what to say. She scratched the back of her neck, her cheeks warm.

“You’d get two gold coins for every sack of tea you delivered,” The old man said. “I’m sure you could fit it around your delivery job.”

“Yeah,” Jinora said. “Of course. Thank you.”

The old man smiled and stopped outside a half-finished building. He rubbed his hands together, “Can I know your name?”

“Of course, I’m—” Jinora caught sight of the sign hanging above the tearoom. She faltered, “…Jinora.”

The Jasmine Dragon’s doors were locked, but the painting on the walls had been mostly finished. The windows were dark. Jinora glanced over the front of the building.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jinora,” The old man said. “My name is Mushi.”


	4. Chapter 4

“…and now, basically, I’m the delivery girl for General Iroh,” Jinora leaned on her elbow. “The original Iroh, not the one that’s working the beat in republic city. That would be weird, if he was here too, right?”

Avatar Korra said nothing. Her head rested still as a stone on the pillow Jinora had brought her. Jinora had also used her gold coins to buy Korra a futon and a thick blanket. The dark caves had looked so cold and foreboding when Jinora had last visited.

Jinora lifted her head, locking eyes with the dragon who lay curled around them. Druk’s warmth rolled off him in waves, making Jinora’s thick robs almost sweltering. “No change?” She asked.

Druk shook his colossal head.

Jinora sighed and pulled a carefully wrapped hunk of meat from her bag. It was the fresh back end of a pighen, surprisingly heavy and dense. Pepper corns coated the meat so thickly it left black marks on her hands as she lifted it up to the dragon, her face turned away.

Delicately, Druk lowered his head and drew back his teeth so he could carefully take the chunk of meat from her hands without hurting her. When she was sure he had a good hold on it, she released it. Druk threw his head back and snapped the bones between his powerful jaws before swallowing it in one go. He licked his lips and drummed his tail on the cave floor.

“Ugh,” Jinora wiped her hands on the corner of a rock, “Meat is so nasty.”

Druk let out a snort of smoke in disagreement.

Jinora left the meat-contaminated wrappings on the cave floor and repacked her bags carefully. She was bringing back her airbender clothing and her staff. Getting in and out of the city had proved unexpectedly easy—she suspected it would be even easier using her staff.

“Zuko wanted me to ask if you were eating well,” Jinora said, throwing her bag over her shoulder. “He said to tell you to be careful about the scouts and to avoid being seen.”

Druk’s whiskers twitched, the more dignified version of an eye-roll. He nodded.

Jinora rubbed the centre of his snout. “Thank you for taking care of Korra for me,” She said. “I promise I’m doing everything I can to get us out of this.”

Druk pushed back against her hand and snorted again, tail thumping on the cave floor. He looked as old as Zuko sometimes, with his fan of grey fur and dense, bushy black eyebrows, but according to Zuko he had always looked like that.

Jinora opened her staff kite with a thump of the end and balanced on the very precipice of the cave mouth, on the balls of her feet like a diver. The fabric of her kite was so red it was almost black, invisible against the violet night around them. Moon shone like a silver coin in the sky.

“Goodnight, Korra,” Jinora murmured, and dived.

*

It was another hot day in Ba Sing Se.

As the days went by, Jinora was feeling more and more like a packhorse. That afternoon, she carried two very heavy bags of tea, one under each arm. The combined weight was starting to sting even her shoulders. It was difficult to offset the weight with air-bending when both hands were occupied. Her back started to hurt.

By the time she reached the inner ring, her shoulders stung and sweat collected in every corner of her thick clothing. A heavy tiredness sucked at every muscle. She shuffled the rest of the way to the teashop and set the heavy bags down. Her knees wobbled.

She knocked on the door.

No answer. She knocked again and as the silence stretched on, irritation boiled in her stomach.

If there was truly nobody at the shop, she would have to drag the bags all the way back to the warehouse in order to lock them up safely for the night. What was worse was she wouldn’t be paid today, and rent was due. If she didn’t bring home enough money, she and Zuko would be eating dried persimmons for the next three days because they would have to borrow from their shady fortune-teller neighbour.

Jinora took a deep breath, sucking in the smell of fresh paint. As subtly as she could, she moved her arms out and lifted onto the balls of her feet, extending her senses through the closed door. Air shifted on the other side. She could feel someone moving around in the room above the teashop, very faintly, like a shadow through a leaf.

Jinora rattled the door and kicked it. It shook loudly on the freshly oiled hinges. The windows were blocked with wood and she checked the corners and found no opening. She thumbed the uneven wood and shook the handle. The lock squeaked.

The door flew open.

A young man with a bright red burn scar stood in the doorway. His remaining eyebrow was twisted into a scowl, his golden eyes were hard with fury. “What is it?”

“You forgot there was a delivery today, Lee?” Jinora snapped.

The young man glanced over the big bags of tea, “My uncle’s not here right now.”

Jinora folded her arms. Sweat rolled down between her shoulder blades and her arms ached powerfully. She scowled at him, “So?”

“So, come back later,” Lee took a step away from the doorway.

“I’m not coming back later, pay me right now,” Jinora put a hand on the door to stop him closing it on her.

Lee’s mouth formed a thin line.

Jinora stared back at him. Her eyelids were heavy with fatigue, and her hair stuck to her face. “I’m not walking all the way across Ba Sing Se because you don’t want to deal with me,” She snapped. Even if old Zuko was nice, the younger version was starting to irritate her.

Lee faltered, glancing at the floor, “I don’t have any money.”

“Well, go get your Uncle and get some,” Jinora said.

“I don’t know where he is.”

Jinora stared at him, leaning on the door, before she sighed. She wrapped her hands around the tops of the big bags of tea and dragged them into the cool shade of the inside of the empty tea shop. Lee paced backwards to avoid her, like she was contagious. She set the bags down again and they sagged on the back of the door.

“When are you going to come back?” Lee asked.

“Back?” Jinora close the teashop door behind her, “I’m not leaving.”

“You aren’t?”

“No. I’m not giving you product until I see some money,” Jinora drew the bolt shut on the door again. “Do you have a bathroom? I’d like to wash up.”

Lee’s golden eyes were wide. He took a moment to process that before he pointed to the steep stairs. “They’re up there.”

*

When Jinora had washed her face and chest, she felt a lot more human. Chilly air drifted from the high window and she brushed back her sweaty hair. It only took a few minutes for strength to return to her legs and she was left with a cool, pleasant tiredness in her. Wrinkling her nose, she pulled back on her sweaty clothes and retied her headband, before she padded out of the bathroom.

“Jinora,” Mushi called from the small kitchenette just off the living area. “Come, sit with us. Would you like some tea?”

Jinora sat opposite him and crossed her legs, “Thank you.” They were alone, apart from the moths which flew in and out of the bands of sunlight that filtered into the small, neat room.

Mushi poured her a cup of tea and passed it to her. He also pulled a small, clinking pouch from his robes and pushed it across the table. Jinora picked up the pouch and shook the coins into her hand. Satisfied, she dropped them back into the pouch and took a sip of her tea.

“I’m assuming that there was a reason you collected white ginger tea instead of the Zhongshui tea I put an order in for?” Mushi asked. His tone was carefully calm, but there was a sternness to his expression which made Jinora choose her next words.

“The merchant had run out of Zhongshui tea,” Jinora said. “He said you could have two sacks of Ru Li, but I asked for white ginger tea.”

“And this wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that white ginger tea is significantly less expensive?” Mushi probed.

“No!” Jinora straightened up, cheeks flushed, “No—I wouldn’t do that, you can ask the merchant! He didn’t give me a refund for the extra charge. I brought white ginger tea because of the four teas you’re collecting, white ginger replaces Zhongshui tea as a lighter, airier blend rather than the heavy, rich Ru Li. It might be a less classy blend but white ginger’s a better alternative to just more of the same.”

Mushi watched her for a long moment, and then he smiled, “I was hoping your reasoning was something like that.”

Jinora relaxed a little. She took a deep drink of her tea. “This place is re-opening in a few days. I didn’t want a delay, so I wanted to give you an alternative. Next time I’ll come and ask you.”

“No, your reasoning is quite sound,” Mushi said. “But white ginger’s going to be hard to market, especially since Zhongshui is such a classic of Ba Sing Se dining.”

“The trade rules say you aren’t allowed to market it under a false name,” Jinora said. “But that doesn’t mean you have to use the common name for it. White ginger tea used to be called Zhenhua tea, after the farmer who bred the first commercial stock. If you add a little bit of lemon juice or cinnamon to the tea, that will help you as well.”

Mushi leaned back slightly. He took a sip of his tea and stared at the ceiling, considering that carefully. “Zhenhua tea with a hint of lemon,” He murmured to himself. “It does sound rather sophisticated. You think people won’t notice?”

“It’s not impossible they’ll know,” Jinora said. “But white ginger’s difficult to come by in the upper two rings; I don’t drink in these kinds of teashops, but I read the menus when I pass. Your customers might not have ever had it before.”

“Meanwhile, if it works, that will take a sizable chunk out of my future expenses as well as marketing something unique to the area,” Mushi smiled at her.

Jinora smiled back. The mood in the small kitchen was light, and it felt like she’d passed some kind of test. Mushi poured her more tea.

“I am sorry for doubting you, Jinora,” Mushi said. “You seem to have a good mind for business.”

“I grew up in a port town,” Jinora said. “I liked watching trade deals go down.”

Mushi nodded.

Steam curled in ribbons above the teapot. Jinora finished her tea and sat with a warm stomach. This building, unlike her apartment, had actual windows. She could see the flat lines of roofs stretch out towards the horizon, glowing pale in the sun. Black birds scattered and bounced between the tiles.

The door flew open and Lee strolled in, “Uncle, I—” He paused when he spotted Jinora.

“Hi,” Jinora gave a wave.

Lee shifted slightly, “Hello.” He glanced at Uncle, “Is she coming, then?”

“Am I coming where?” Jinora asked.

Mushi sighed, “My nephew has spoiled the surprise. I was going to ask if you’d like to come to our grand re-opening later this week?”

“Are you sure?” Jinora startled. “I’m not exactly upper-ring material.”

“Neither were we, a couple weeks ago,” Mushi said. “And you’ve been rather invaluable.”

Jinora smiled brightly, then a stab of indecision cut through her. She rubbed her chin and stood up, retying her belt. She was still wearing her shoes, to hide her arrows, and she noticed dusty footprints she’d left on the clean tatami mats. She glanced at Lee, who looked completely impassive.

“Can I think about it?” Jinora asked, finally.

“Of course,” Mushi said. “The offer will stay open. And you can bring a friend, if you’d like.”

Jinora bowed and left.

*

Jinora walked the city streets at night.

As much as she’d grown fond of Zuko, the apartment was very small. When she had first gotten her job, she had barely crawled home before dropping into a deep, exhausted sleep. Now that she was used to it, there was a restless hour or two after dinner when she had nothing to do but breathe in dust and listen to the muffled arguments of the couple in the next room or watch Zuko painstakingly heal his own hands, which just depressed her. And there was only so much meditating a girl could do.

Deep violet night stretched above her. Ba Sing Se was never dark, only dimly lit, even in the lower ring. Stretching, tall shadows crossed the street on both sides and Jinora caught the movement of low-lives sharpening swords or gambling in the corners. She smiled at them when she caught their gaze. The first few nights she had walked alone, a couple of them had mistaken her for frail and defenceless—and had been surprised in the form of a handful of bruised ribs.

Jinora stopped in mouth of an alleyway to adjust her shirt, and heard wooden sandals come to a stop behind her, almost impatiently. She whipped around, “Oh, sorry—”

There was nobody behind her. She glanced into the rafters and around the corners, but saw nothing. Just as she was deciding that she’d been mistaken, she heard wooden sandals again in the alley.

When Jinora turned back around, there was nothing there. Still, she heard the creak of wooden sandals. A smile broke over Jinora’s face, and she jumped, clicking her heels together. There was a creak of invisible wooden sandals jumping, and the crack of them colliding together in the air.

“Beto-beto-san!” Jinora beamed at the darkness of the alleyway. “I didn’t know there would still be spirits here!”

There was a series of creaks, and Jinora imagined the invisible yokai did a spin for her. She laughed, delighted. The presence of a spirit was like seeing an old friend.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Jinora gave a bow.

There was a creak as the spirit matched her bow.

Without rising, Jinora raised an arm, “After you, Beto-beto-san.” The spirit was dismissed.

*

“Hey,” Jinora waved and then pointed.

Zuko followed her pointing.

The fat mosquitobee flew lazy loops across the apartment, the constant hum of its wings like a batter to the ears. It couldn’t escape through the crack in the slats which it had come in through, so simply flew in disorganised loops around and around and around the small room.

Zuko looked back at Jinora. He pulled the needle back, finishing another dark stitch in his work clothes. The rough cotton spread over his lap and smelled faintly of mud.

“Could you…?” Jinora swallowed. “You know.”

Zuko looked very unimpressed, but he secured the needle in the fabric and pushed it from his lap. He rose onto his knees. When the mosquitobee continued flying dumbly towards him, Zuko clapped. There was a sharp, frantic buzzing noise between his fingers—and then silence.

The charred corpse dropped from his hands. Smoke curled from its blackened body. It twitched once, and then was still.

“You know, I’m not sure it counts as non-violence if you just get someone else to kill the bugs for you,” Zuko said, dryly.

“Ugh,” Jinora covered her eyes, “Mosquitobees bit my shoulders into itchy lumps while I was waiting in the fish market yesterday. I’ll pray that the Autumn Lord looks the other way for this one.”

“Agni would not be so forgiving,” Zuko shook his head in grave disapproval.

“Autumn Lord is the steer of Airbenders,” Jinora said, “We’re all about forgiveness. I’ve done enough good deeds this week that I’ll be square.”

“Is that how it works, is it?”

“Yes,” Jinora removed her hands from her eyes and stared at the crispy black bug, its spindly legs curled into its body in death. It was no more appealing dead than it had been alive. She blew out a breath and it spun slightly on its taut black carapace.

Zuko pulled his sewing back into his hands, “You’ll be happy to know that with our income and your mysterious side-gig, we’ll have slightly more than enough for rent this month. That means we can go to a bathhouse and get our clothes washed. I don’t know about you, but I’m more than looking forward to feeling clean again.”

Jinora glanced up from the dead black bug, “We should go to a teahouse.”

“We definitely can’t afford that,” Zuko didn’t look up from his stitching. “Plus, what’s wrong with my tea?”

“No, I…” Jinora paused. “I mean, we should go to _the_ teahouse.”

Zuko glanced at her. His eyebrows twitched, as if he was about to frown but couldn’t quite complete it. His mouth was open a long time before he spoke.

“What are you saying, Jinora?” He asked, voice thin and frail.

“My mysterious side-gig, it’s been at the Jasmine Dragon,” Jinora pulled herself up into sitting position. “Iroh offered a space for us there at the re-opening. We can go together!”

Jinora waited, but Zuko didn’t say anything.

She wanted him to look happy, but he didn’t. In the gloom of the apartment, his pupils were blown wide, almost fearful. For a very long moment, while the couples argued in the opposite rooms, while the busy merchants called in the street below, he was just silent and still. He glanced away and whatever strange tension had pulled at him dissolved. He sighed.

“Excuse me,” Zuko murmured. He pushed his sewing from his lap and rebuttoning his coat. Each movement was very slow and deliberate. He said nothing. He pulled his shoes back on and left, closing the door softly behind him.

*

For the rest of the week, Jinora wanted to back-track and fix whatever had gone wrong. She had made a wrong turn somewhere, but she wasn’t sure where.

When Zuko finally returned the night they’d had the conversation, she bolted up from her futon. “I’m sorry,” Jinora said, “That was—insensitive of me. I shouldn’t have suggested it.”

“Go to sleep, Jinora,” Zuko had said, tiredly.

The day before the re-opening, Jinora managed to wrangle some fire-flake tea from the contraband warehouse and wrapped her little present in newspaper. Zuko had peeled it apart, happy at first—but his smile faded when he saw how she shifted around anxiously waiting for his response.

“I’m not angry at you,” Zuko had said while he folded the tea back into its wrappings. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

But Jinora couldn’t escape the feeling that she had, somehow. Zuko’s gloom was palpable. She went to bed that night convinced she wouldn’t go to the re-opening. She would go about her day without mentioning so much as a word to the ex-firelord about it and after the re-opening had been and gone, she would send Iroh a polite message informing him that she wasn’t ever going to visit the teashop again.

This plan fixed in her head all through her shift. She usually dropped by the teashop when she had deliveries to make in the upper ring, but this time she made detours and did everything in her power to avoid running into them. Shufen noticed her discomfort, but she told him it was just sleeplessness caused by bug bites, which was half-true.

When she came back to the apartment, she smelled fresh cooking before she even opened the door. She took a moment to clear her mind and affix a smile to her face before she opened the door.

“Wow, it smells so nice in here,” Jinora said, her voice bouncy with fake-cheer. “Is that dinner?”

Zuko lifted the cover on the bamboo box. Sixteen lily-white dumplings gleamed with moisture, sprinkled with peppercorns. They smelled thick and warm, and looked deliciously soft.

“Not for us,” Zuko said, looking down at the identical dumplings.

“What do you mean?” Jinora faltered.

Zuko closed the box and stood. He was tall, when he stood up straight, taller than Tenzin was. Will be. He held out the box to her, “They’re for you to take to the reopening.”

“I decided I won’t go,” Jinora bit her lip. “I won’t go.”

Zuko took a deep breath. He visibly steeled himself, “It’s alright. All week, I’ve been thinking… should I go and see him again? Should I stay? And—whatever choice I made, if I stayed or if I went with you, would I regret it?”

Jinora watched him very carefully. His shoulders were tight, and his face was drawn and pale. There was that sense again, that there was this large, open wound in Zuko, which was agonising even to brush against. He shifted his grip on the bamboo box.

“But what I’m sure of is that you should go,” Zuko said. “I think you should know Iroh. I think he has a lot to teach you.”

Jinora held her breath.

Zuko pushed the box into her hands. After a moment of indecision, Jinora wrapped her hands around it and held it close to her chest. It was hot and sweet-smelling.

Jinora took a step back. She didn’t quite smile, but felt something warm unfurl in her chest. “Thank you.”

“That’s fine,” Zuko smiled and squeezed her shoulder, “And you should stop worrying about me so much. I’m not as frail as I look.”

Jinora grinned and opened the apartment door, “I never said that.”  



	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if anyone's curious about what forces dictate my erratic update schedule it's that I update every time I have two chapters in the buffer or when a week has passed since my last update. In this case I just finished chapter 7 in my drafts. :^)

Children’s shouts echoed distantly, and there was a remote thump of the leather ball making contact with the wall. This redoubled the shouting, although it was too indistinct to make out if it were angry or excited. Birds scattered and span as the leather ball rebounded from one of the nearby low roofs, cracking a shingle.

Zuko smoothed down the sections of scrolls. The characters were old fashioned and lyrical, and each line took several reads to decipher. The diagrams were no better—usually only showing a rather pointless ink painting of a tree or a man meditating.

“Some hash, Yen?” Guangyou asked from the other side of the rickety table. His hands were knotted and as heavily wrinkled as wet cloth.

“No,” Zuko said, without looking up. “But thank you.”

Guangyou grunted and tapped some ground black hashish into a small rectangle of old parchment. He pinched one corner and rolled it with practiced ease. His fingernails were brown at the corners.

Zuko re-read a line, running his finger under the tiny black, squarish characters. _The very telaesthesic nature of spiritual energy is labile particularly to a person or persons who are/is not ramus to the ka of the scion of the spiritual branch which first interacted with the provenance of the spiritual energy, that is to say—_

“Does it make reading harder?” Guangyou spoke around the rolled-up parchment which perched on his lips.

“What?”

“Your one eye,” Guangyou said. He hunched over the spark stones and cracked them together until a spark caught on his blunt. He breathed very softly and gently on the little spark, until it caught properly and began to burn in earnest.

Both of Zuko’s eyes worked fine, but he didn’t feel like correcting him. He sighed and massaged his eye-sockets with old knuckles, “There’s not much to read, to be honest with you.”

“Mmm,” Guangyou breathed in deeply and released a cloud of thin grey smoke. He tapped his blunt nails on the uneven table. “I’d be able to get you better scrolls if I knew more what you were after.”

“If I knew I’d tell you,” Zuko murmured. _—that which is closer by bloodline/lineage to the eclosion of bending or other such similar or equivalent spiritual practices will have far a less fingent and find his/her/their relationship or relationships to be more suitable but still obsequent in a manner more predictable yet still—_ Zuko resisted the urge to put his head in his hands.

“Spiritual stuff is all a little academic to me,” Guangyou said.

“It’s not helped many yet,” Zuko said.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Guangyou took in another breath of hash, his eyes dark. “I heard the Avatar summoned a big water spirit down in the pole. Wiped out a whole battalion of ships.”

“That so?” Zuko refocused his gaze on the scroll.

“That’s what they tell me,” Guangyou said. He stubbed out the end of his hash. “Maybe it’s true, maybe it’s not. But what’s true is, something’s changing. Something very big’s about to happen.”

Zuko pulled the scroll shut and sighed, “You know, I think you’re right about that.”

*

The city was dark by the time Jinora made her way to the Jasmine Dragon. She had picked up a habit of walking further and further through the city on her off-hours. Dai Li agents glared at her, but outer ring residents weren’t actually forbidden from crossing the rings after dark. They just were really, really strongly _advised against it_ —and Jinora was feeling belligerent enough to ignore them.

Jinora caught a glimpse of movement around the back of the shop and padded around the alleyway, “Hello?”

“Jinora?” Lee lifted his head and fixed her with a disapproving glare. “You’re out too late.”

“Me? I’ll be fine,” Jinora was perplexed.

“It’s not safe,” Lee said. “People are getting…” He glanced down the long, empty dark street. “…well, it’s dangerous right now.”

Jinora crossed her arms and looked Lee up and down. He was wearing all black, two dao swords strapped to his back like short wings. She raised her eyebrow, “What about you? Aren’t you going out?”

Lee turned away, tipping his head dismissively, “Just don’t be stupid.”

Jinora watched him stalk away. He disappeared behind a corner like a snake slipping through grass. She stared after him, unsure if she should be concerned or annoyed. Jinora had the impression she would find him unlikable if she didn’t—know, all that she knew.

There was a squeak of wooden clogs and Jinora glanced around. She was alone in the street, but she smiled broadly, “Beto-Beto-san. I thought you’d gone.”

Clogs clapped and squeaked against the stone floor.

An idea struck Jinora, “Hey, Beto-beto. Could you do me a favour and follow that guy?”

There was a silence. Then, a quiet scraping, like someone rubbing the toe of a wooden clog nervously against the stone, the sort of gesture an embarrassed young girl might make.

“I’m taking that as a no,” Jinora smiled. “That’s okay. I’m just kind of curious to see where he’s going.”

Jinora left the overhang of the teashop, and as she walked home, there were twice as many footsteps as usual.

*

The next evening, Jinora followed Shufen home.

Shufen lived in a slightly better area of the slums, if such a thing existed. Unlike Jinora’s apartment, the streets weren’t full of tied up livestock or piles of slowly rotting vegetables. Here the streets were filled with people sitting on porches and gambling on rickety tables. Rugs lay outside the doorways, so muddy they were almost completely brown. Long hanging linens swung gently on drying lines between the squat houses, guarded by sour-faced men.

Everything smelled like clean washing. The air was very fresh, like it was newer in Shufen’s neighbourhood. It gave the whole place a very pleasant aura. Jinora told him as much.

“You’re easily pleased,” Shufen said, with an eyebrow raised. He pushed his front door open. The roof of his house was low and looked heavy, the stone cracked along the corners.

“Shufen!” A scrawny, bony eight-year old appeared around the short corridor. He had a missing front tooth and battered knees.

“Hey,” Shufen scrubbed the boy’s messy black hair. He glanced back at Jinora, “This is one of the twins.”

“Ah,” Jinora smiled at the little boy, “Which one? What’s your name?”

“Chanfen,” The boy beamed at her. “My brother’s Minfen.”

Shufen laughed at Jinora’s growing frown. “Just wait,” Shufen said, “You haven’t even met Banfen, Hanfen or Kunfen yet.”

“That’s a lot of fens,” Jinora said.

“Yes, well,” A woman appeared from the kitchen and wiped her hands on her aprons. “If the spirits see fit to bless me with six boys, at least they can be is ‘aromatic and fragrant’. I’m assuming you’re Adaptable Opportunity?”

Jinora blinked quickly, “Um, Jinora, yes, I am.” A boy almost identical to Chanfen, presumably Minfen, appeared from the living room, and pulled his brother outside. Shufen had to swerve quickly to avoid being tackled.

The woman smiled at her, “My name is Hua LúTóng. It’s nice to meet you, and probably lucky too. Adaptability is worth more than gold these days.”

“That’s what I said,” Shufen said.

Jinora followed Shufen and his mother into the kitchen. A large pot bubbled on the fire, filling the room with the smell of pork and pepper. Jinora tried not to wrinkle her nose at the rich animal smell of the cooking meat.

“What does Hua mean?” Jinora asked.

“It’s written with the character for Splendid,” Hua replied. “The spirits have a funny idea about splendidness, but I certainly could have done a lot worse. Will you stay for dinner?”

“Um.” Jinora shifted in her seat, wondering how to phrase it in a way that didn’t sound rude. “I’d love to, but I don’t… eat meat, actually.”

Hua tilted her head, “Well, you could pick the meat out of the stew?”

“No, sorry,” Jinora frowned. “I don’t think that would work but thank you.”

“Don’t worry,” Shufen grinned. “We have some dried persimmons she can eat.”

Jinora went a little green, and Hua laughed.

Hua didn’t look like a noblewoman from a glance—she was stout and broad-shouldered, carrying her weight around her middle. Her hands were worn from work, presumably in some textile factory from where her house was, and her fingers were short and blunt. But there was a way she moved, a fluid grace that carried from one movement to the next, how she sat with her ankles close and feet pointed straight forward, and walked with her head high and poised—it was a splendidness that was hard to fake.

“I have some flat breads you can eat,” Hua said. “And we should have some tea and dried fruits you can eat with it. Not just persimmons, I promise.”

“Thank you,” Jinora said, with earnest.

“Well, that’s alright,” Hua said. “Now, Shufen said there was some spiritual business you wanted my advice on?”

Shufen watched her with equal intensity to his mother’s. His eyes were bright and curious. There was the muffled shouts as Minfen and Chanfen engaged in combat in the other room, thumping dully against the thick walls when they collided.

“Yes, well,” Jinora paused. She had thought hard about how to explain it, but she hadn’t reached any conclusions. “I have a friend, and she’s a very spiritual person. But now I think she might be… lost.”

“Lost?” Hua echoed. “In a physical sense, or a spiritual one?”

“Spiritual,” Jinora said, and then paused. “Kind of physical too, but we’re all physically… a bit lost, if that makes sense.”

Shufen watched her, eyes cool and bright. He rested his chin on his wrist.

Hua considered that, “Is there anything else you can tell me?”

“Not really.”

“Give me your palm,” Hua stretched a hand out to her. Her round wrist jangled with thin metal bracelets etched with loops of dense characters even Jinora would need a magnifying glass to read.

Jinora gave her hand, and Hua tilted it up to the light.

“Your lifeline is strong,” Hua read. “Very strong. Your parents did you well with your name too, but looking at your fate line, they could have done with calling you Míng or Xiáng.”

Jinora glanced at Shufen, who translated, “ _Lucky_.”

“Oh,” Jinora said. “Is it that bad?”

“Everyone should be calling their kids lucky,” Shufen waved his hand dismissively. “It’s that kind of country, these days.”

“Your fate line is not that bad,” Hua said. “It’s just—odd. A lot hinges on your life. On your abilities.”

Jinora frowned. She thought about the Harmonic Convergence, about battling Zaheer and the Battle for Republic City, and she hoped that she was past the stage of millions of lives hinging on her abilities. She could do with something a little easier on the mind.

“Wisdom line?” Shufen prompted, as if he sensed Jinora’s discomfort.

“You are fairly wise,” Hua allowed. “Ah—are you the eldest?”

Jinora straightened up, “Yes, I am! Did you read that? That’s impressive.”

“You didn’t tell me you had siblings!” Shufen beamed. “You should bring them over next time—we love having guests.”

Shufen must have sensed the change in mood immediately, because the smiled dropped off his face. Jinora tried to keep her low mood from showing, but she pulled her hand back, curling her fingers.

“Yeah,” Jinora said, putting her hands in her lap. “I have three younger siblings. But they’re not—they aren’t in the city. I haven’t seen them for a month now. We were—separated, I guess. They’re with my parents and I’m here with—my grandfather.”

Shufen looked crestfallen, “Oh.”

“Well, if the spirits are favourable, I think you should reunite with them some day,” Hua said. “I doubt Shufen has told you, but when we lost our estates, we were split up. I had the twins and their father—I was pregnant with Hanfen at the time, but the rest of my boys were missing.”

“I was with Banfen and Kunfen,” Shufen said. “I was fine. They’re both pretty good benders—they would have been in the army if they were old enough. Banfen had already been technically conscripted, he was scheduled to join up last summer.”

“Yes, well, if they’re not going to respect our name then they aren’t getting my sons fighting for sovereignty,” Hua said, very sharply. Then she relaxed a little, the anger of an old wound fading.

“It was actually at the gates of Ba Sing Se that we all reunited,” Shufen finished. “It was really nice. Lots of shouting and crying.”

Hua smiled fondly at the memory, “That’s when you realise what’s really important. If Ba Sing Se had given me my lands and servants and fine robes back, it wouldn’t have meant a jot if I hadn’t gotten the rest of my boys back too.”

Jinora smiled.

“So maybe your family will come to Ba Sing Se,” Shufen said. “It’s the refugee capital of the Earth Kingdom.”

“Maybe,” Jinora allowed. “I’d rather be able to go back to where they are, though.”

“It could happen,” Shufen assured her.

There was a clatter at the doorway, and Jinora turned to see a tall young man setting down a heavy bag of potatoes. He was broad shouldered, square-jawed and his jet black hair was folded into a short braid. He gave his family a wave.

“That’s Banfen,” Shufen jabbed a thumb at his older brother.

“Just Ban tonight,” Banfen said, sniffing his grey-green shirt. Dark sweat patches eclipsed his armpits and plaster dust clung to his shoulders.

“You make that joke every time you come home,” Shufen said. He turned to Jinora, a look of distaste etched into his features. “Every night it’s _just Ban tonight, guys._ ” He rolled his eyes. “It’s not funny.”

Banfen smirked at him, “One day it’ll catch you off guard—then you’ll laugh.”

“Can you put those in the pantry?” Hua asked, pointing to the discarded bag of potatoes, “And after dinner, could fix the outer wall? The crack is getting bigger.”

Banfen bowed his head and snagged the heavy bag and disappeared back out of the kitchen. Shufen waited until his older brother was out of earshot, before he grinned at Jinora, “You should definitely stay after dinner and watch him fix that wall. Earthbending is so cool!”

“I can do that,” Jinora said.

Hua set around preparing to serve dinner, “Shufen, go and fetch your brothers.” Shufen obediently disappeared around the corner.

“And Jinora,” Hua paused.

Jinora straightened up, fixing her full attention on the woman.

“I don’t know how much advice I can give you about finding your lost friend,” Hua said. “But I can trust that you’ve already done what you can from this side of the problem. You need to try fixing it from the other side.”

*

Dinner was busy affair. Chanfen and Minfen fought exhaustingly over everything, although they seemed to bow a little to the authority of their bigger brothers—excluding Shufen, who obviously didn’t look tough enough. Kunfen, who was between Shufen and Banfen in age, was a tall, quiet young man who said almost nothing during the meal but was polite if retiring. Hanfen wailed and wailed.

After dinner, Shufen dragged Jinora and Banfen out to the back of the house. A slinking black cracked showed in the whiteish stone. It was starkly visible, even in the fading evening light. Thin grass weeded through the lower cracks in the wall.

“Keep a look out, Shu,” Banfen murmured, rubbing his hands together.

“Alright,” Shufen leaned on the gate door, scouring up and down the road. Even as the day dwindled, the roads were still busy.

“Who are you looking for?” Jinora asked.

“Dai Li,” Banfen said, voice uncharacteristically dark. “I spend all day every day fixing the king’s alabaster shit-houses, but apparently I need a different kind of license to fix my own house.”

Jinora swept a glance along the road. People were everywhere, popping out of every window and doorway, spilling around the water pumps and talking and laughing. One of their neighbours had made a pot of fish soup and had attracted loud guests which hung in a thick crowd around the entrance.

“Won’t someone sell you out?” Jinora suggested. “Isn’t there a reward for it?”

“No way,” Shufen said. “It’s not pride either. If people from the lower ring talk to the Dai Li, they’re just as likely to get locked up themselves for something stupid. My old boss tried to get them to stop one of the gangs from busting up his shop—and the Dai Li made up a regulation violation to slap cuffs on my boss and throw him away instead of investigating. They’re always looking for some stupid reason to lock us up.”

“Alright, eyes front,” Banfen said, drawing his hands up and dropping into a bending stance. Shufen perked up, like a dog that heard its name called.

Banfen glared at the crack in the wall and, moving short and sharp, pinched the air. The wall moved to one side with a short crunch, and the crack sealed up. Banfen kept his hand closed tightly for a long moment, just to make sure the stone would settle. Then he straightened up.

“That was impressive,” Jinora said. “It’s quite a precise move.”

“Thank you,” Banfen said. “Are you a bender?”

“I _wish_ I was an earthbender,” Jinora sighed, sidestepping the question. “That would be so useful.”

“I wish it were more useful,” Banfen said. “You can’t move for earthbenders in this city, so I don’t earn much money.”

“Non-benders earn even less,” Shufen lamented, swinging on the gates. “I can’t do anything except run like an eel hound across the city all day.”

“Alright, sure,” Banfen admitted. “I just mean I’d be more use in a place like the South Pole, where the regular population aren’t earthbenders.”

“North Pole,” Jinora corrected on instinct.

Banfen blinked at her, “Huh?”

“North Pole, you might be able to earthbend. I mean, there’s still miles and miles of ice before you actually get to any land,” Jinora said. “But at the South Pole there’s no land at all—it’s ice all the way down.”

“Ice?” Shufen echoed, bewildered. “It’s all ice? Like a gigantic ice cube? You can see all the way down to the ocean under you?”

“Well, it’s covered in snow,” Jinora said. “And the ice refracts light in such a way that you can’t see through the bottom. Apart from that I suppose it’s like a giant ice cube—but it’s bigger than Ba Sing Se.”

“Bigger than Ba Sing Se?” Banfen fixed her with an amazed look.

“Much bigger,” Jinora said. “Well—the poles are probably as big as two Ba Sing Se’s each, roughly.”

“You’ve been there?” Shufen asked. “Both poles?”

“Yeah,” Jinora said.

“Where else have you been?” Banfen asked.

Jinora frowned and thought for a moment before she said, “Pretty much everywhere.”

“Even the Fire Nation?”

Jinora had been on a trip throughout the Fire Nation when she was a lot younger, and she had slept in one of the royal wings of the big Palace at Caldera after a diplomatic feast held by Firelady Izumi. But that probably wouldn’t go over well, so she chose a clean omission, “I’ve been to the colonies.”

“Wow,” Banfen leaned on the gate. The chickens which pecked and squawked around the back of the house just walked over his feet. “So I guess you’re kind of a nomad?”

“Yeah,” Jinora said. “Something like that.”

*

Jinora met Zuko on the stairs to their apartment. The building got so dark when the sun was down that the stairwell was gloomy and navigated more by feel than sight. The smell of mould was thick and heavy in the air, like a physical presence.

Zuko unlocked their apartment and Jinora was disappointed to discover it was just as small and crappy as when she’d left it. The floor sagged a little under their weight, as if the dark boards were heavy with water.

“I miss electricity,” Jinora lamented as Zuko locked the door behind them, “and I miss laundromats and I miss having a clean, big house.”

“Anything else you want to add?” Zuko asked.

Jinora grumbled, peeling off her shoes and her arm bands. She discarded her loose jacket. Honestly, one of the things she missed most was having clothing which actually fit her—she had loved her tight gliding suit with its stretchy, smooth fabric—but that was a fond memory at this point.

“Did you have any success getting advice?” Zuko asked. He lit the bottom of a teapot. Tea was what they lived on given the lightly sour taste of the water pipes locally before you boiled it.

“I need to try fixing it from the other side,” Jinora said.

“Any idea what that means?”

“Yeah,” Jinora pulled herself into sitting meditation position. “I need to go into the spirit world.”

Zuko raised his eyebrows, “I thought you said you didn’t think she was in the spirit world?”

“I don’t know,” Jinora frowned. “Usually people have to meditate to get it. I’ve never heard of someone getting—pulled in, I guess. But Korra’s a special case.”

“That she is,” Zuko agreed. He opened the vents on the teapot and let the steam billow out. It wasn’t quite ceremonial spices, but it achieved the same goal—shifting the smell of mould and dirt from the room. It helped Jinora remove her ties to the physical world.

Jinora breathed shallowly, her eyes falling shut. She put one hand in the other and relaxed each muscle, one by one, starting at her toes and moving upwards through her body. Meditating was one of Jinora’s favourite activities—it was never boring to her. She was distantly aware of each of her energy gates opening and chi flowing through her. Her breath pulled and pushed the tide of her energy.

Fatigue, itchy clothing, smells, sounds—every tether weakened and released her. She had a boundless, weightless feeling, like she was filled with warm, brilliant light.

She opened her eyes.

Whitish fields surrounded her in soft mounds. Jinora’s legs were covered in a fine powder, like white ash. She pushed herself upwards and slapped her thighs, dislodging the dust in pale clouds. It was pleasantly soft to walk on. Giant mushrooms bordered the field, their brown gills fine as paper slices on the undersides of the red caps.

Jinora saw a dozen yellow-banded lemurs chattering in the shadows of giant fronds of leaves. She approached and bowed respectfully low, “Excuse me. Have you seen Avatar Korra, by any chance?”

The twelve lemurs chattered quickly to each other in their harsh, squalling language. Then, in unison, each pointed in almost every direction.

“Thank you,” Jinora bowed again, and went in the one direction they hadn’t point in, out towards a deep crystalline lake.

The air was rushing and cold, sending broad ripples across the deep blue lake. Jinora didn’t approach it all the way—something told her a creature would jump out at her if she approached the bank—but she began to walk along the side.

“Jinora?”

Jinora turned—in time to be enveloped in a big hug. Korra half-tackled her, lifting her off her feet in a strong embrace.

“Korra!” Jinora hugged her back. “Are you alright?”

Korra released her enough to get a look at her. Korra looked exactly how Jinora had last seen her—complete with the wedding necklace around her neck. Her short, choppy hair was freshly cut and fluttered around her ears in the breeze, and her blue eyes shone with happiness.

“I’m fine,” Korra said. “Are you okay? Is Zuko alright?”

“We’re both fine,” Jinora said. “Do you know where we are?”

“In the past, I know,” Korra looked troubled. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you, actually.”

Jinora frowned for a moment—as far as she knew it was impossible to look between worlds without passing from one to another—but then it struck her. “Beto-Beto-san! You sent him?”

“Yeah,” Korra said. “My spiritual dealings aren’t quite up to your level yet, but I can still cut a deal.”

“So, can you come back with me?” Jinora asked. “I can lead your spirit back if it’s stuck.”

Korra frowned. She stepped away from Jinora and sat down at the lakeside. After a moment of indecision, Jinora followed her, folding her legs on the soft, moist bank. Fish flashed in the lake like silver coins. In the distance, a deep purple dragon formed knots and loops above ruby red mountains.

“I can’t come back,” Korra said, finally.

“What do you mean you can’t?” Jinora searched Korra’s face.

“I’m the avatar,” Korra said. “Here in the spirit world, the rules can be a bit more lax, but there can’t be two Avatars in the physical world at once.”

Jinora bit her lip, “But Zuko—”

“Zuko’s just a human,” Korra said. “I’m not. There can’t be too Raavas there, it would upset the balance. As long as both me and Aang are connect to the spirit of light, we can’t both exist in the human world.”

Jinora deflated. She bowed her head a little, “So—what can we do? How do we get home?”

Korra shook her head, “I… I’ve been talking to Raava. If you can bring everyone’s physical body to the spirit world, she can bring us all home. But…”

“But the spirit portals aren’t open,” Jinora said.

“No, they’re not,” Korra said. “And I can’t open them from in here. But if you got Aang to help…”

“I can’t,” Jinora insisted. “He didn’t open the spirit portals, you did. If we asked him to open them, that would throw everything out of balance.”

“Not necessarily,” Korra said. She scratched the back of her neck. “Raava explained it all to me, and she said we’re in the past, but it’s not our past.”

“Not ours… Well, we weren’t alive yet anyway, right?” Jinora frowned. “It’s Zuko’s past.”

“It’s not completely his, either.” Korra fixed her gaze on the young airbender. “The spirit energy didn’t punch a whole backwards, it punched sideways. It’s a past, but it’s not ours—things are different now.”

Jinora fell silent. She stared at the clay earth beneath them, trying to take it all in. The lake rippled gently, deep blue like the night sky and skimmed with white. Finally, she said, “So what do I need to do?”

“I’m sorry,” Korra said. “Aang won’t be able to help until all of this is over.”

Jinora rubbed her face with her hands, “Right. Just end the hundred years war and then I’m square. Piece of cake.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the slight delay. It's soo easy to lose track of days rn :V

Lee walked the cold city streets.

He was almost never alone in this city. No matter what hour it was, from dusk until dawn, there was usually someone awake and at least a handful spending their wakeful hours on the main street. Old men leaned on the gates as he passed, pregnant mothers bounced restless babies while they stepped in and out of their doorways. But it was late enough now that he could walk without drawing eyes.

The night was deep blue and his green clothes looked black. He could walk in such a way that he made almost no sound. And there were places, even in this city, to be unobserved.

Lee slipped into an alleyway and scaled the divider between the streets. He landed on some hard goods covered with thick sack material, and slipped onto the cobbles. Here, there was nobody lurking in the street. He wasn’t that far now from—

Someone tapped him on the shoulder.

Lee drew his swords and slashed behind him in one smooth movement, but cut only air. He stared.

The delivery girl—what was her name?—was bent backwards to almost a right-angle to miss the sword swing. She grinned at him and took a smooth bound backwards, out of his range, and gave a small wave.

Lee glared at her, “Jinora?”

Jinora straightened up. She was a strange-looking girl, in six or seven layers of draping green clothing which hung off her in deep folds. Thick, workman’s gloves covered her hands and what looked like bandages covered any area not already draped.

“What are you doing here?” Lee asked, sheathing his swords.

“I want to go where you’re going,” Jinora said.

Lee narrowed his eyes, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“We both know that’s not true,” Jinora huffed.

Lee turned away and buried his hands deep in his pockets, stalking down the street, “I’m just going for a walk. Buzz off.”

Jinora bounded after him, mirroring his stance with her hands in her pockets, “Let me walk with you, then.”

Lee glared down at her.

Jinora looked back, the picture of passivity.

“I’d rather be alone,” Lee gritted out.

“If you can get rid of me,” Jinora said, “then I’ll leave you alone. Imagine I’m assassin or something.”

“Why don’t you just respect my wishes?” Lee hissed.

Jinora tilted her head, like a smug cat.

Without warning, Lee shot into a sprint. The slap of his feet resounded hollowly around the alley. Wind whipped at his hair and his robes flapped. He glanced back to see how far behind she was—only to see she kept pace easily. Worse, she still had her hands in her pockets and her shoulders back.

He was tailed through the complicated network of alleyways and avenues. Under the large bypass bridge. In-between the slums and the animal stables. Along the roofs of the lower rings. Jinora followed him everywhere, easily, without breaking a sweat.

Over the alabaster arches, Jinora put a hand over her mouth, faking a yawn.

Gritting his teeth, Lee pushed himself harder. He feigned and dived at the last second into an alley. Jinora tailed him like she was attached to him. He leaped over boxes and she flew after him. He could have sworn her feet left the ground for a second.

Lee turned on a dime, diving off the roof. He hit a pile of washing and kept moving, slipping through the wet fabric. The scent of jasmine and lavender filled his mouth and nose.

“Give up,” Jinora ordered, feet making almost no sound on the dark cobbles, “I do this all day. You've grown slow in your tea—”

Lee snatched the heaviest cloth and threw it over her.

Jinora lost her balance, the heavy, wet fabric slapping her skin. She struggled, pulling at the cloth over her face.

Lee took the chance and sprinted into the back of a nearby stables, vaulting over the empty doors and through the barren office and out, into the next street. He sagged, his heart beating painfully fast. His head spun. Jinora wasn’t just fast—she was impossibly fast.

He staggered into the dark, cool shadows, leaning against the rough stone. He felt like he was about to puke.

Metal glinted, just under his chin.

Lee went completely still. He hardly dared to breath, staring down at the knife blade poised at his jugular. His breath left a pale ghost on the pristine metal.

“Gotcha,” Jinora said, pulling the knife back and sheathing it quickly. “If I was a real assassin, you’d be toast.”

Lee leaned heavily on the wall and looked back at her. Jinora tucked the knife back into one of her deep pockets. She had been completely and utterly silent. She had been right—there was no way he would have ever been able to escape her if she had actually wanted to kill him. Lee felt a sharp prickle of fear.

Jinora noticed his expression and took a step back, “I wouldn’t have actually hurt you. I’m non-violent—I don’t even eat meat.”

Lee wiped a hand through his sweaty hair. He was finally getting his breath back, but he still felt weak. “I can’t take you. I’m not—allowed to bring new people in.”

“Give me a break. You just saw how fast I am,” Jinora’s eyes flashed, “Imagine what _Jet_ would say, if you turned away a recruit like that.”

Lee stared at her.

Jinora folded her arms. Her hair shifted slightly in the breeze and her face was completely dry. She hadn’t even broken a sweat.

“Fine,” Lee conceded, finally.

A smile broke over Jinora’s face, the kind of sly, self-satisfied smile Azula might have if she won a game she had rigged from the start. Lee tried to stifle the growing irritation in his belly.

Jinora followed him, at a much slower speed this time, to the Freedom Fighter’s base. It wasn’t much. The base was located in the outer ring, where he’d been unconsciously running towards, in the barren hold of an empty stables. It used to house Eel Hounds, and still had sacks half-full of the animal’s feed which was gently moulding and released an earthy, ripe smell into the base.

Lee lifted one of the heavy draping over the entrance, “Jet? I brought Jinora.”

Jet was sitting in one of the corners, looking over some scrolls. He frowned at Lee, “Who’s Jinora?”

Lee glanced back at the delivery girl, “You don’t know Jet?”

“Did I say that?” Jinora ducked under his arm and slipped inside.

Lee snatched her wrist, stopping her in her tracks, “Then how did you know his name? How did you know about the Freedom Fighters?”

Smellerbee pushed off from the wall, fixing Jinora with a searching look. Longshot lifted his head and looked out from under his broad-brimmed hat.

Jinora paused. She glanced between all of them, almost embarrassed, “Um, a spirit told me?”

“Relax, everyone,” A tall man stepped through the other doorway. “I know this girl. She works with my little brother, I bet he told her.”

“Banfen!” Jinora pulled her wrist out of Lee’s grip.

“You should tell him to keep his mouth shut,” Jet muttered and folded up his scrolls. “We can’t have everyone learning about us.”

“I want to join,” Jinora announced.

Jet blinked at her.

“I live in the slums,” Jinora said. “I’m sick of the Dai Li. I can’t let them go unchecked.”

Jet set his scrolls aside and stood up, stretching. He took a few steps towards Jinora. He was only a few inches taller than her, but his shoulders were broad. His eyebrows knitted together.

“Well?” Jet asked, and it was clear he wasn’t talking to Jinora.

Longshot brought the rim of his hat down slightly, which Lee knew meant he was stepping out of deciding. Jet’s eyes slid to Smellerbee, who also made a non-committal noise.

“Well, I trust her,” Banfen folded his thick arms. “She’s much stronger than she looks. And, frankly, it’s not like we’ve got a lot of options.”

Lee glanced around. Although Banfen was even newer to the Freedom Fighters ranks than Lee was, he was also the only Earthbender and a few years older than everyone else. That meant that his vote held much more weight than Lee’s did, and therefore the decision was already made when Lee said, “She can run fast. I think she’d be a good member.”

Jet found that satisfactory and he nodded at her. He stretched out a hand towards Jinora.

Jinora took it.

“Welcome to the Freedom Fighters, Jinora,” Jet smiled.

*

Mushi swirled the dark red tea, relishing in the musky, deep scent it emitted. The lanterns flickered dimly in marching rows across the ceiling of the teashop, bathing the place in a low gloom and the subtle scent of lantern oil.

Two old women chatted noisily to each other, and one of them let out a peel of shrill laughter like a firecracker. A very young girl sat between them, her dark, chubby hands being pushed and pushed again out of the way of the nearly-empty teapot in front of the two old ladies.

The door opened silently, and an old man slipped inside. He set his broadbrimmed hat down on a table and settled down like an old hawk, shifting his robes around him.

Mushi straightened up, setting the fresh teapot down between the old ladies, who cooed in thanks. He shuffled towards the newcomer.

“Hello,” Mushi said. “Welcome to the Jasmine Dragon. Would you like a menu, or do you have a blend in mind?”

The old man fixed Mushi with a blank look. He was very wrinkled, his back bowed with age and his hair hanging in loose silver wisps around his temples. A greyish, red scar eclipsed almost half of his face, the folded skin scaly and deeply damaged. The eyelid was drooped almost closed, but the eye underneath moved with his good eye, both a pale, royal gold.

The old man seemed to notice Mushi’s gaze and touched the corner of his deep scar absently.

“Excuse me,” Mushi said. “I didn’t mean to stare.”

“It’s alright,” The old man said, and it was like his voice was coming from very far away. “I’ll have the Zhenhua tea with lemon.”

Mushi gave a short bow and disappeared into the kitchen. There was a strange, but not quite unpleasant, air about the man. It was like meeting someone he had known very long ago. The hot water began to shimmer gently, just before it bubbled, and he poured that into the teapot. Steam rolled over his face. It was possible, he thought as he mixed dried lemon peel into the darkening tea, that the old man had worked with him as a lieutenant or a major during his old life. But if there was any hint of betrayal, he didn’t see it yet.

Mushi returned and set the tea down on the table.

“Strange to have a teashop master serving the customers,” The old man observed.

“Ah, business is slow this early in the evening,” Mushi said. “So I gave my nephew a break.”

The old man put a spoon in the teapot and swirled the dry flakes, “Will you sit with me?”

Mushi pulled a chair out and sat.

“I think you know my granddaughter,” The old man said. “Jinora?”

“You’re Jinora’s grandfather?” Mushi blinked quickly.

“Yes,” The old man—Yen, if Mushi remembered correctly—said, running a hand over his thin skin. “I admit, she looks a lot more like her grandmother than me.”

Mushi nodded, “She’s a good, dutiful girl.”

“She’s a blessing,” Yen said. “I was much more wild than she is, when I was her age.”

Mushi smiled, “Weren’t we all?”

The hot water in the teapot turned yellow, then red, and then rich brown. Steam swirled in the warm air.

*

Coins clinked together and Jinora pulled back a much heavier handful of money than usual. The boss half-glared at her and moved on to the next worker. She glanced back at Shufen, who put a finger to his lips. She chewed the inside of her cheek, but said nothing. The two of them left the half-gloom of the warehouse and stepped into the yellow afternoon sun.

“It’s too much,” Jinora hissed at him.

“I’m impressed you managed to bite your tongue,” Shufen said, putting his hands into his deep pockets, “A couple weeks ago, you would have just pointed out the mistake and got your pay docked.”

“Why is he giving out too much?” Jinora asked.

“Festival is next week,” Shufen said. “Workers get a little bit extra in festival season, because we have to a lot more deliveries.”

“That’s nice of them.”

“Not really,” Shufen raised an eyebrow. “During the actual week of the festival, we won’t be getting any work, which means no pay.”

Jinora blinked. Despite both her and Zuko working, the meagre surplus wouldn’t be enough to cover rent for a whole week. Not unless they wanted to eat or wash during the same period. “Ah.”

“You don’t have work lined up?” Shufen asked.

“No.”

Shufen threw an arm around her shoulder, pulling her against his side. Jinora wrinkled at his sweaty armpits. “I thought not,” Shufen announced. “You really are green!”

“Shut up,” Jinora said without any venom, and ducked out from under his stinky arm.

“Don’t give me cheek,” Shufen said, “I asked around for you. I got you a spot working in a vendor job with Kunfen’s girlfriend, it’ll pay more than deliveries and you won’t be running ragged around the city. How’s that?”

Jinora looked astonished, “You’re serious?”

“Yup,” Shufen grinned.

Jinora scratched her cheek, “Well, thank you. That’s very thoughtful of you.”

“Of course,” Shufen tilted his head, “You’re family now. You’ll look out for me too, right?”

“Yes,” Jinora said immediately.

Shufen laughed. “Speaking of, my cousins are playing pigball on the green later. Do you want to come?”

Jinora almost said yes, but spotted something out of the corner of her eye. She glanced back at Shufen, “I would love to, but I’ve got other plans. Enjoy yourself, though.”

Shufen nodded and bounded onwards. He had shed his outer robes and tied them around his waist, with only a thin undershirt over his skinny shoulders.

Jinora waited until he was out of sight before she walked to the side of the road. There was a fabric stall which smelled of dust and mould, draped in heavy, dark rugs. Banfen leaned against the wall beside the stall, his expression cool and unreadable.

“Hey,” Jinora said. “Did you want something?”

“Yeah,” Banfen said. “How did you find out about the Freedom Fighters?”

Jinora paused, “Well, you said—”

“I know what I said,” Banfen said. “I had to vouch for you because any hint that you were suspicious, and Jet would have gone crazy. He’s a temperamental guy and Lee’s unpredictable. I’d advise you not to play around with people like that.”

Jinora paused. She tucked her arms behind her back and scuffed her shoe in the dirty cobbles.

“Well?” Banfen prompted, folding his arms.

“I got a spirit to follow Lee,” Jinora said. “It reported back and told me about the group.”

Banfen blinked. His expression was balanced perfectly between disbelief and concern, “A spirit?”

“Yeah,” Jinora’s shoulders rose a little. “I’ve always had a spiritual connection. It’s because—well, they seem to like me, so they do what I ask. Most of the time. I sent Beto-Beto-san after him.”

Banfen just watched her for a long moment, before his heavy, dark eyebrows rose. He rubbed his chin, “Well, I’m inclined to believe you, just because that would be a pretty ridiculous thing to lie about.”

Jinora paused, resisting the urge to defend herself. It was difficult to deny them in republic city, where spiritual vines often overflowed into main street and caused traffic jams, and sleek water spirits left small dancing fish on the stone front of Air Temple Island. She had to remind herself that this was an age when spirits weren’t common and weren’t seen by most people.

“We’re raiding the eastern-side rice warehouse tonight. We’ll meet up at the stables and attack just after dark,” Banfen said. “I wasn’t lying when I said I thought you would make a good addition to our team.”

“Thank you,” Jinora said, feeling a strange flush of pride.

“But Jinora,” Banfen put a hand on her shoulder. “I didn’t tell Shufen about this group and I’d ask you not to either. I’d like to keep him out of this.”

“Me too,” Jinora said.

Banfen nodded and disappeared behind the fabric stall, darting up the alleyway.

*

When Lee had first arrived on the scene of the rice warehouse, he had developed a bad feeling in the bottom of his gut. He may never be a great firebender or a perfect strategist, but he had lived a risky life, and had since developed a sixth sense for impending danger. It was like overhearing an argument, and without even making out the words, he could sense when it slipped from angry to violent.

Smellerbee and Banfen distracted the guards while Jet, Jinora and Lee slipped through the empty windows and fell upon the rice packets inside. Longshot watched like a hawk from a nearby roof, dressed entirely in black.

The first problem—the bags were far too heavy. Jet rested a huge sack on his knee while he tried to find an easy way to carry them. Lee dragged some by the corner but soon realised they were far too big to be lifted up.

“Maybe we can carry them between us?” Lee suggested.

“That’s not nearly enough,” Jet shook his head. “That won’t make the trip worth it at all.”

Lee glared at him, “It’s better than nothing.”

There was a crunch of sack fabric, and Jinora hefted up two bags, one under each arm. Lee had seen her carry tea sacks like that, like a heavily laden reptile bird. She swayed slightly.

“Put those back,” Lee snapped. “Those are too light. We need rice.”

Jinora glared at him, “These _are_ rice.”

Lee stood up, “They’re too—”

An arrow embedded into the wood above his head with a distinct _thunk_. All three stared at it.

“Longshot,” Jet looked grim, “Let’s go.” He climbed quickly out of the window.

Jinora bounded out of the window after him in one long step and dropped into a run. The bags under her arms made a crackling sound of rice shifting. Her feet slapped the road.

There was a crack of rock behind them, and Lee risked a glance over his shoulder. Three Dai Li agents rounded the corner behind them, dark robes flapping as they sprinted. He cursed under his breath. Jet dived down one of the alleys and a Dai Li agent followed him.

Jinora sprinted next to him, breathing heavily. Her forehead shone with sweat.

“Pass me a bag,” Lee called.

Jinora shook her head. They turned a corner and the extra weight of the bags almost toppled her over. She skidded on the dirty cobbles. Here, the slums was teeming with people. Lee had to duck to one side to avoid an old man who was standing in the middle of the road. A baby wailed shrilly.

The Dai Li agents began to gain on them, leaping clean over the citizens.

Jinora dropped one of the sacks and kept running. Lee stared at her.

A bald man fell on the rice sack, quickly followed by a thin, sallow-faced woman and her husband. Earth opened with a crack, and the Dai Li threw the citizens away. They fought back and the agents had to fight off the swarm of poor.

“Keep running,” Jinora insisted. “We can’t fight them all.”

Lee realised he’d started to slow his pace. Jinora continued to run, her feet slapping the stone. Lee stared at her, a cold feeling in his chest.

The pair of them turned the corner and the Dai Li vanished from sight. They continued to run for a while, but when they left the industrial district they slowed to a walk. Jinora lifted the heavy sack of rice onto the back of her shoulders. By then her arms shook slightly, a quiver in her muscles.

The stables appeared at the end of another alley. Jet straightened up and offered a slow wave.

“Ugh, I’m so exhausted,” Jinora dragged an arm over her sweaty face.

Lee said nothing and Jinora gave him a sharp look.

“What are you glaring at me for?” She asked, sharply.

“You used those citizens back there as bait,” Lee snapped.

Jinora stared at him. For a moment, her expression was surprised and clear, before it settled into a scowl, “ _Excuse_ me?”

“You heard me!” Lee folded his arms.

“Lee, are you sure?” Jet asked. “From where I’m standing Jinora was the only one to actually bring something back.”

“It doesn’t matter if people get hurt in the process,” Lee insisted.

“You think I did that on purpose?” Jinora rounded on him.

“You dropped the bag so that other people would jump on it,” Lee said. “You knew the Dai Li would stop chasing us in order to stop them getting the bag.”

“I would never try to hurt people like that! I _dropped the bag_ because it was heavy!” Jinora shouted. Her voice was so loud it seemed to shake the walls. She cursed and tossed the large bag down. As it hit the ground it split down the side and thin sprinkles of bright white rice scattered across the cobbles. “You are such a _jerk!_ ”

Lee stepped towards her, “Jinora—”

Jinora shoved him aside and shot away, scaling the alley divider in two leaps. She was like a cat sprinting, and vanished in a second. Smellerbee slowed to a stop outside the stables, just soon enough to catch the tail end of Jinora’s robes vanish over the divider. She was followed closely by Longshot, who glanced around the empty rooftops.

Jet cleared his throat and picked up the sack by the corner. More rice scattered over the dark street. “That could have gone better.”

Banfen shot Lee a nasty glare, and Lee glanced away.  



	7. Chapter 7

The festival colours were draped over main street. Jinora’s apartment didn’t have windows, so she first saw the flapping greens and yellows when she left for the morning. Without all the deliveries planned, she could wear thinner robes with less pockets. It gave her a lighter, airier feel. If only she could wear her air bending outfit—but that would probably bring her too much attention. It wasn’t really something she could take back.

Jinora stopped to peer at the stalls as she passed. Very small, jade carvings of small animals gleamed from one stall, on the next there were collections of ceramic bowls and spoons. They were slightly rustic, and much more rudimentary than the ones in the upper rings, but they still made Jinora wish she had some disposable income. If only she could buy one of the jade animals in the shape of Pepper, her Skybison.

“Jinora,” Shufen jumped and waved from beside the warehouse. Jinora broke into a run to catch up with him. Shufen led her a little further down the main street, and pointed to a storefront made of deep red wood.

Vegetables hung in racks above a gently boiling cooker in the front of the stall. A woman leaned on the front of the stall, watching them approach. She looked strikingly like a younger, less muscular Aunt Kya, her dark hair pulled back into messy, knotted braids.

“Chiko!” Shufen reached the front of the store. “This is the girl I told you about.”

“Ah, young Miss Opportunity,” The woman smiled down at Jinora.

“That’s not actually my name,” Jinora protested. There was something bothering her—Chiko’s name sounded familiar, almost, although she was she hadn’t known it before.

“It makes you sound a bit like a thief,” Chiko agreed. Jinora realised that despite her brown skin, the woman had bright yellow eyes, like golden coins.

“This is Kunfen’s girl,” Shufen pointed at Chiko, “Remember?”

“Excuse _me_ , scamp,” Chiko folded her arms, “Kunfen is _my boy_ , actually.”

Shufen laughed, “I’ve got to go.”

“Oh, what job did you get?” Chiko leaned over the front of the stall.

“Train Usher,” Shufen called as he sprinted away.

Chiko watched the boy scamper away. “Man,” Chiko unlocked the side door, “That’s a good job. You get to see the whole city that way.”

Jinora let Chiko help her into the stall. It was surprisingly small, the wooden sides pushed in from all directions. Chopping boards covered all sides and neat selections of vegetables and dried meat filled small boxes in the racks that hung from the sides. Jinora was glad she was short enough to avoid cracking her skull on the hanging pots from the ceiling.

“Welcome to Kong’s Dumplings,” Chiko gestured inside the very small stall.

“Who’s Kong?” Jinora asked. She opened little boxes which were scattered around the surfaces, uncovering fragrant spices.

“Eh, the guy who owns this stall,” Chiko said. “Only technically, though, since it’s my recipe. Also, I practically live here. Stand there.”

Jinora was directed towards a small chopping board. Spring onions were stacked in little temples on either side of the board. She picked up a long, gleaming chef’s knife.

Chiko put a hand on Jinora’s shoulder, “Now, this recipe is mine, and it’s my secret. Kong’s been after it for years and it’s basically my job security. Can you keep a secret?”

“Of course,” Jinora said.

“Great,” Chiko patted her shoulder and stepped away to lean against the boxes on the other side of the stall. Even though she had moved, Jinora could still feel her—the work space was scarcely big enough for two people to stand next to each other. “I want you to chop the vegetables into tooth-sized pieces and roll them in salt. Put them into the big yellow ceramic pot when you’re done.”

“Um,” Jinora glanced at the racks and racks of vegetables, “Which vegetables?”

“All of them,” Chiko rolled her shoulders. “And that’s just the morning supply. I remember last year I was chopping so much—chopping, chopping—that I did it in my sleep. I woke up Kunfen chopping and chopping with my hands,” She made the repetitive motion with her wrist like cracking an egg, “It was pretty crazy. People love dumplings.”

Jinora picked up a handful of spring onions and set them down on the chopping board, brandishing a knife. Chiko dropped a dozen soft white uncooked dumplings into the boiling pot. She made a circular motion over the top of the bubbling pot and the dumplings bounced against each other.

“Waterbending,” Jinora gasped.

Chiko grinned at her, “Less oogling, ’Nora. More chopping.”

*

The chopping was more difficult than Jinora expected. She ended up falling into a rhythm, running a knife along the spine of the spring onion to split it, and cut the two halves into dozens of tiny green rectangles. Salt stuck to her fingertips like itchy sand. Onions made her nose run and she had several close calls with the edge of her knife.

Around midmorning, Chiko tapped her on the shoulder, “Don’t stop chopping, but look this way.”

Jinora turned her head to find a warm, fresh dumpling under her nose. She got her teeth around it and awkwardly tossed her head back, crunching it with her back teeth. Warm spice and the delicious gooey texture of the freshly cooked dumpling filled her mouth.

“Good, right?” Chiko ate one herself.

“Hot,” Jinora said after she’d swallowed it.

“Yeah, that’s the best part,” Chiko dropped another dozen into the boiling pot. “Do you mind if I ask a very culturally insensitive question?”

Jinora raised her eyebrows, “I guess that’s fine.”

“Are you part Fire Nation?” Chiko asked. “You eyes are deep red.”

Jinora glanced out the front of the stall, but saw nobody waiting, “Yes, I am. My mother’s half Fire Nation.”

“Ah, same here,” Chiko said. “Except she’s full Fire Nation.”

There was a short silence. Jinora’s knife made a rhythmic thump as it hit the chopping board. She scraped another board’s worth of chopped vegetables into the yellow ceramic bowl.

“Did you know her well?” Chiko asked.

“Yeah,” Jinora said. “I lived with her until recently.”

“Ah,” Chiko sprinkled pepper into the boiling water and stirred it with her bending. “I wish I’d known her better. There’s always stuff I wish I’d asked her. Like—you know how Shufen’s obsessed with name characters and destiny or whatever? I never got to ask her which characters she’d used to spell my name, so I don’t know what it means.”

Jinora frowned. She set her knife down and thought hard.

Chiko noticed the silence and turned, “Um, Jinora? You aren’t finished chopping.”

“Chiko, you’re half Fire Nation half Water Tribe?” Jinora asked, sternly.

Chiko blinked, “Yes, I am.”

“You’re named after the Chiko port!” Jinora exclaimed.

Chiko frowned at her, “The what?”

“The Chiko port!” Jinora bounced up and down, “Before the war started, there was a little port on the Northern Dragon’s Spine crest of the Fire Nation—it was where the Fire Nation traded with the Northern Water tribe—and the port was called the Chiko Port!”

“You’re sure?” Chiko looked astonished.

“Yes!” Jinora continued to bounce, “It’s written with the characters for Prosperity and Unity.”

“Hmm,” Chiko looked very pleased. “Thank you, Jinora. _Prosperous Union_. That’s not too bad!”

“It’s amazing,” Jinora beamed.

Chiko picked another fresh dumpling from the rack at passed it to her, “Have this as my thanks. But also, get back to chopping.”

*

Jinora’s knife slipped and sliced a neat line in the side of her thumb. Beads of bright red blood welled across the cut.

“Chiko, can you heal this?” Jinora asked, setting her knife down.

Chiko glanced back at her, “Sorry, Nora. I’m not that good a waterbender. But there are some dressings in the back. It’s in the blue box.”

Jinora opened the cupboard and began to pull out dozens of half-full boxes of dried peel and dumpling flour. It was more difficult than it should be. Crouching down, she was almost pressed against the back of Chiko’s legs. She balanced the boxes on top of each other.

“I just want to know if she’s there,” a voice drifted through the stall.

“Look, kid,” Chiko’s voice had a note of annoyance. “Do you want dumplings or not?”

Jinora bounced to her feet, “Lee?”

Lee stood at the stall and peered over at her, “Jinora?” He shifted backwards awkwardly. “I… would you walk with me?”

Jinora packed away the cupboard. Her irritation at Lee had faded, but she still couldn’t quite tell if she liked him or not. She closed the cupboard. “I’ll go.”

“No, you won’t,” Chiko said. “Your vegetables aren’t chopped.”

“Oh,” Jinora frowned. “Um, can I take a break? I’ll come back later.”

Chiko thought for a moment, “Well, alright. But you better make it back before the dinner rush, or… I’ll be really mad.”

Jinora gave a short bow, hands pressed together. “I promise.” She ducked out of the stall and closed the door behind her. While she had been working, the streets had filled with a crush of people. Lee shied away from the crowd and slunk quickly into the less populated side streets. Jinora followed him.

“Hey,” Lee said.

Jinora waited for him to say something else, but he didn’t seem to. She folded her arms.

“I know you didn’t mean to hurt those people,” Lee said, stiffly. “It wasn’t right to accuse you.”

Jinora leaned backwards. “And?”

“And what?” Lee said, blankly. Then he straightened up, flushing darkly, “Oh, and I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” Jinora said.

Lee nodded to himself, “Well, I’ll see you.”

Jinora watched him turn and go—but something about his gait made her pause and she darted in front of him, snatching his wrist. “Your knee?”

Lee backed away from her sharply, and she saw the same flicker of movement. His right leg quivered slightly as he put weight on it. “It’s just bruised. I slipped in the teashop.”

Jinora held his wrist gently for a moment while she thought. She glanced at her bloody, cut thumb. Then she bounded to one side, “Come with me?”

“Wait—where are we going?” Lee yelped.

Jinora offered a smug smile and said nothing. Lee followed without complaint as he was tugged through the main street and into the side alleyways.

They passed pens filled with sheepdogs and clusters of pale chickens. The smell of animals was hot and heavy in the air. With everyone at the festival, the streets were strangely empty, and the windows looked like dark eyes when they passed.

Jinora released his wrist but continued to head towards a section of dark slums, “How did you find me anyway?”

“I asked Banfen,” Lee said. “Really, where are we going?”

“It’s a secret,” Jinora said, and bounced in front of him. She seemed to have forgiven him completely and jumped around like a winged lemur. “I promise it’ll be worth it.”

Lee grumbled.

The slums ahead were dark and sagging. An old woman with deep-set wrinkles and unhealthy-looking skin sat outside the entrance, playing cards with another, equally grim old woman. They both had black-bordered teeth and nails from years of opium chewing.

“Hi, Lai,” Jinora greeted warmly, “Hi Cui!”

The two old women smiled toothily at her.

Lee followed her inside. The steps inside the apartment block were very steep and dark, but Jinora bounded up them like a leaf on the wind. Her movements were weightless and bouncing. They almost reminded Lee of—no, never mind.

“Here,” Jinora stopped at a seemingly random apartment door and pulled it open.

Lee slipped in after her.

“Jinora,” An old man sat in the middle of the apartment. The old man had long silver braids, deep green robes and a scar that was the exact size, shape and location of Lee’s scar. He fixed Lee with a strange look.

“This is my grandfather, Yen,” Jinora dropped into kneeling position in front of her grandfather. The apartment was dark, and the air smelled of damp.

Lee closed the door behind him, “I’m—”

“Lee,” The old man said, and his voice was surprisingly strong and deep. It was like a mountain talking. He shot a look at Jinora, who smiled guiltily. “Yes, I’ve heard of you.”

“His knee is hurt,” Jinora said. “I was wondering if you could heal it.”

Lee knelt down next to Jinora, sensing something awkward and unspoken in the air. Yen gave him a scouring, deep look. The old man’s eyes were a bright, pale gold—the same gold of Lee’s Uncle’s eyes. Or his father’s—or his own. Yen ran a hand over his face, scratching the grey stubble.

“You’re a waterbender?” Lee asked, a little disbelieving. The old man looked about as far from Water Tribe as it was possible to get.

“No,” Yen said. “I’m not.”

“He’s a firebender,” Jinora said.

A sharp bolt of fear pierced Lee’s chest and he almost fell backwards, “You shouldn’t tell people that! If the Dai Li find out—”

“Are you going to tell them?” Yen interrupted, sharply.

Lee’s heart hammered and his throat was dry. He swallowed thickly. “No.”

“Then there’s nothing to get worked up about,” Yen shook his head.

Jinora rolled forward and put her bloodied hands into Yen’s. “Watch this, Lee.”

Yen waited patiently for Lee to creep closer, before Yen summoned a light, translucent flame. It bloomed over Jinora’s hands. Lee flinched, but when he opened his eyes, the flame was still there, and Jinora didn’t react to it. It was surreal. It didn’t seem to hurt her at all. She turned her hand in the centre of the little fire. The flames rolled over her thumb—even over the fingerless gloves she wore—but nothing caught alight. It didn’t seem to hurt her at all.

Then she pulled out her hand.

Her thumb was perfect and healed. There was no scar or mark to show where the cut had been.

Lee hardly dared to breath. It was like witnessing a miracle.

“Your knee next,” Jinora prompted.

Cold sluiced down Lee’s spine, like had been doused in cold water. He looked at her sharply.

“C’mon, it heals it so well,” Jinora insisted. “It’s like the cut never even happened. Yen is like the only firebending master who can do this.”

“I…” Lee felt oddly frightened.

Jinora looked at his expectantly with wide, deep brown eyes.

“If Lee doesn’t want it then that’s alright,” Yen said, straightening his robes. A pot of darkening tea sat infront of him.

“No, I..” Lee shifted forward, his stomach in knots. “I-I want to see it. I want to feel it.”

Jinora glanced at Yen, who raised a silver eyebrow. He beckoned Lee forward.

Lee edged forwards. His stomach flipped sickeningly, but something else drove him to extend his right leg and roll his robes up to reveal a deep purple bruise just under his kneecap. Yen extended a hand engulfed in flame, and Lee screwed his eyes shut. For a moment he felt nothing, and when he opened his eyes he saw that Yen had paused in his movements.

“Are you sure?” Yen asked, seriously.

Lee swallowed and nodded. This time he kept his eyes firmly open as Yen pressed a hand, very gently, to the injured skin. Lee flinched automatically—like a brush against a very taut string. Warmth bathed the bruise as the translucent flame rolled in small tides over his skin. Lee felt lightheaded. There was absolutely no pain. If anything, his skin felt itchy with energy, he had the strange urge to kick out or jump around.

“It’s mostly my spiritual energy,” Yen murmured, almost to himself, “transmitted through the form of firebending. Have you ever wondered why healing water glows? It’s the light of the soul.”

Yen removed his hand.

Lee stared down at the completely unmarred skin.

He breathed thinly and touched the skin. It was slightly over-warm, like a dark stone in the sun. The muscle was firm and painless, the bruise wiped away like a smear. There was no evidence of it at all.

“It’s kind of cool, right?” Jinora said. “Healing is kind of funny. One time I got someone to heal a cut I had on my shaved head, and it healed but all my hair grew back in that spot too. I looked like a palm tree.”

Lee blinked at her blearily, and then, after a second, he frowned, “Huh? Why was your head shaved?”

“Oh! Um, it was… a ritual… thing…” Jinora bounced to her feet, “Anyway I should be getting back, come on, let’s get going Lee!”

Lee allowed himself to be ushered out of the dark apartment and waved a weak goodbye to Yen before Jinora shut the door behind them.

On the long walk back, Lee hardly said anything. He allowed Jinora to push and pull him out of the way of pedestrians and around stalls until they returned to Kong’s Dumplings. Chiko was chopping onions with the quick deftness of a trained professional.

Lee stood, a little unsteady, while Chiko and Jinora talked animatedly. His robes were still rolled up and his leg was starkly pale. He unrolled the dark green robes and let them drop. Through his cheap shoes, he could feel every mound of the cobbles.

Jinora stopped talking midsentence when Lee’s hand landed on her shoulder.

“I’ll see you at the next meeting,” Lee said.

Jinora nodded. “Have a safe trip back.”

Lee nodded sternly and took a few steps away, before he turned back to face her. His spine was very stiff. “Thank you, Jinora.”

Jinora stepped back into the stall, “That’s alright.” She smiled at him.


End file.
